


A Kingdoms War

by Ooferdoofer (Bazurke)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Magic, Civil War, Dark Elves, Dragons, Dwarves, Elves, Gladiators, Medieval, Multi, Vikings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22606918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazurke/pseuds/Ooferdoofer
Summary: In a world where everyone can use magic, rampant changes are occurring in England. Tensions are flaring as they are becoming more aggressive, testing the ancient borders they share with Scotland and Wales, along with attempting to spread their influence across mainland Europe.





	1. Appendix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The appendix to the story, containing information on the magic, places and characters. Updated as the story progresses.
> 
> If you want to jump straight to the story it starts in the next chapter

This will be updated as more characters/places get introduced.

Background information - 

This story is set in a fictionalised part of history, in a universe where magic is normal and everyone can use it. It leans into many historical themes, even if in real life these themes didn’t occur at the same time. For example, I have a late middle ages style world where Scandinavia is still dominated by Vikings. I’m not saying they are still hundreds of years technologically behind, just that that way of life never ended for them.   
  
The borders and countries names are also going to be based on modern geography as history is very complicated. For example, there will be no Prussia as it’s own country, just Germany and Poland and whatever else exists now instead. I am a student and this is just a bit of fun, I don’t have the time to be researching history and making decisions about what exists and what doesn’t.

If you don’t like what I’ve done to your country, in terms of borders (which I have been creative with) or the type of people that live there, then I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to offend anyone, I’m just trying to be creative.

I am British, and that is where most of my story will be based, and I am not trying to romanticise imperialistic ways. There are good and bad people in every country, as there are in this work, and I am just trying to create a story. 

The people I am using may also be based on real-life historical people, but I have tried to use them sparingly and keep my characters as original as possible. They may also share the name of a real historical figure/monarch, but they aren’t the same person.

I will not be naming the main religion featured in the story, but it is based on the expansion Christianity was having in the early middle ages. The religion is going to be a monotheistic, but it is **NOT** Christianity (or any other real religion for that matter) and will be referred to solely as The Church.

Magic - 

Magic materialises in people before they are 21 years old, but it rarely appears before 10 years old. You can tell when a person's magic has awakened externally because their eye colour will change to match their magic (the same colours as the dragon guide below. A druids eye will match its familiar). For 1 in 100,000, magic never materialised and are treated as lesser persons, known as noughts.

Power and capabilities are different. Power is how strong a person’s magic is, while capability is what a person can do. You could have a person who is incredibly powerful (and use their magic for a sustained period of time) but can only make a flamethrower with their hands, it is unknown how a person will turn out. Below are only very vague examples of what a person can do.

People have access to one of 12 ranges of magic (Brackets are the surname of the slaves):

  * Fire (Brand) - Only the weakest users need a source of fire
  * Water (Waller) - Easiest to use with a source but the stronger can bring it out of the surroundings
  * Ice (Frost) - Can create and control Ice
  * Earth (Aarden) - Can move earth and can include rock, mud or metal, depending on the user
  * Air (Hara) - Can manipulate air
  * Life (Reed) - Includes healing magic and plant control
  * Holy/light (White) - More commonly known as Holy magic, a better description for it would be Light magic
  * Dark (Black) - Can be the most restrictive magic, or the strongest. Often discriminated against by the church, who view it as the opposite of their “Holy” Light magic
  * Druid (Ward) - Ability to communicate with animals, even the weakest have a familiar from birth. They can take on aspects of animals on their bodies, with the strongest being able to transform completely, while their magic also enhances their familiar
  * Lightning (Strum) - Can create lightning
  * Psychic (Cognis) - Abilities range from moving objects with their mind to reading others thoughts. Are often used to translate languages in political meetings.
  * Berserker (Vass) - Can strengthen their body, and some can strengthen others



The type of magic a person inherits is totally random, but with some being rarer than others. The innate ability of a person is, in general, helped by the power of the parents, but it is not unusual for a person to be on a totally different level than their parents. The power of a child of a nought is often weak, but the chance of being nought themselves is still 1 in 100,000.

Some magics are considered more powerful than others, but the main aspect that makes them stronger is a person’s individual power and capabilities.

Races - 

Various races inhabit the world, with different races being more likely to have certain types of magic:

  * Humans - Highly adaptable and have spread to live all over the world. No specific magic is dominant, but fire is the most common
  * Dwarves - Overwhelmingly likely to have earth magic (~50%), with Berserkers being the next most prominent (~20%). They tend to have large underground cities, with a relatively small overland population. Not as short as the name implies, they are much broader and stockier than humans, with their average height being only about 10 cm less
  * Elves - Similar in size to humans, with long pointed ears. Have a strong affinity with nature, with the most likely magics being Life and Druid. As a result of their magic, during the spread of humanity, they retreated into forests, where most of their population still inhabit
  * Dark Elves - Driven to near extinction by the Church, who viewed their Dark magic affinity as evil. Around 80% used dark magic. They now only have very small populations scattered around the world
  * Dragons - Rare but intelligent creatures who used to be worshipped as the source of magic in the world. The discovery that their bones can strengthen a person’s magic caused their populations to drop significantly. This information is now a secret known only by a select few royal families. Each type of dragon have specific colours and characteristics:
    * Fire - Orange-red colour, can breathe fire. Typical European style dragon
    * Water - Countershaded dark/light blue. Can grow the largest of all dragons, adapted for living underwater, more like a plesiosaur with wings to help swim faster. Cannot fly out of water
    * Ice - Have ice like scales, making them light blue. Have an ice-cold breath. Have a white furry mane and ridge running down their spine.
    * Earth - Brown to grey in colour. Either has six legs with no wings or has no legs or wings. Those with legs are known as Drakes, legless as Wyrms. Neither type can fly.
    * Air - Sky blue in colour. Can control the weather.
    * Life - Green in colour, live in the deepest forests. Look like they have fur due to the grass that grows on their scales.
    * Holy (Light) - Light yellow to golden in colour. They only have hind legs and use their wings for support on the ground. They are known as Wyverns.
    * Dark - Dark purple to black in colour, at night they become almost ethereal. Also Wyverns.
    * Druid - Do not exist.
    * Lightning - Electric blue or very rarely light yellow in colour. Smallest dragon, but very fast in the air and on the ground. You can see electricity pulsing in the gaps between their scales.
    * Psychic - Pink to purple in colour. Wingless (also known as Drakes), but can still fly using their magic.
    * Berzerker - Red in colour with a horn on the tip of its nose. “Welsh” dragon. Extremely thick scales make them very difficult to kill.
  * Loong - “Chinese” dragons that have the same sort of colour variations as their European counterparts, but other than that have very few physical differences. They weren’t hunted in the same way they were in Europe, but they fought much more amongst themselves, making them equally as rare.
  * Whilst normal animals don’t possess magic, there are magical creatures, such as unicorns or phoenixes.



  
  


State of European politics -

  * There is an alliance of shared trade and mutual protection between the human Kingdom of England, the Elven Kingdom of Scotland, the ‘pagan’ human Kingdom of Wales (although the king is a dragon), the mixed human/elf Irish republic, and the Dwarven Kingdom of Bryten that exists in tunnels stretching underneath much of England, Scotland and Wales and linking to Ireland. Whilst some foreign powers refer to them as one country, they are not. No kingdom has power over what goes on in the other kingdoms, they just have a strong alliance.
  * England and the Kingdom of Portugal have a strong and ancient alliance which allowed Portugal to take over much of southern Spain (Sorry to any Spanish people, I did say I was creative with some borders).
  * English capital in London
  * Scottish capital on the relative flatland around Loch Laidon, known as Laidon. The England/Scotland border has also been moved slightly south compared to modern today, between the mouth of the River Esk and the mouth of the River Tyne, following a similar route to Hadrians Wall. There is also a patrolled Hadrians wall along the border. There is also a large earthen wall stretching between Glasgow and Falkirk which isn’t patrolled, but it does have manned forts along the length of it. So old they don’t know whose magicians formed it out of the ground, with modern earth magicians unable to effect it.
  * Welsh capital on Anglesey, known as Caerddraig. The actual islands are home primarily to dragons, with the human city stretching along the mainland coast. Cardiff is still the most populous city, just not the capital in this world.
  * Dwarven capital breaches the surface at Leicester, with other land breaches spread all over England, Scotland and Wales, and a couple on the east coast of Ireland. These land breaches often have cities belonging to the surface country surrounding them, with the entrances to underground monitored like any border is. Large tunnels and caverns created by magic make up the underground settlements that align with each respective surface breach. Not every dwarven city has a land breach
  * Irish have human capital and elven capital, being Cork and Belfast respectively. Only in the extreme north and south would you find a large majority of either race. Parliament is however held in Dublin, between the two capitals and in the centre of the mixed population.



Just because I’ve associated a race with each country doesn’t mean that is the only race living there, these are just the majority races present, although Humans and Elves don’t tend to live underground in large numbers.

  
  


Characters - 

King William III - King of England, Druid magic-user with a red wolf familiar, named Lupus. Currently 51 y/o, he has been king since his older brother, George VI, died childless 25 years prior. Dressed in loose robes, he has a neatly trimmed grey beard, greying hair to his shoulders, and usually wearing a simple golden crown.

Duke Hamilton of York - Loyal to the King, they’ve been friends since they were children. Controls ice magic. Usually wears red with the white rose of Yorkshire on his chest.

Archbishop Aethelstein - Rising quickly within the Church, he became archbishop at 34 years old and has been at the post for 18 months. Almost always wears white robes with golden trimmings, they mostly hide his skinny frame. As is required by any clergyman, his head is totally shaven and he has Holy magic.

Albion - 22 y/o. The king’s only son, he has fire magic. He is young and eager to prove himself to his father, in politics or in battle. Relatively tall and with a strong build, he has his fathers chestnut hair and eyes. The mutual protection alliance meant when he negotiated the end of raids, he did so for Scotland as well as England.

Estrid - 22 y/o. Princess of Sweden and betrothed to Albion. Possesses Berserker magic. Used to lead raids in Britain and elsewhere, she has dirty blonde hair and is modelled on shield maidens like those seen in the Vikings TV series.

Gwenyth - 20 y/o. The youngest daughter of William, she possesses life magic and is in Scotland for political reasons when the story begins.

Catarina - 25 y/o. The eldest daughter of William, she is his heir to the throne. In Portugal with her husband Frederick at the start of the story. Possesses rare golden-coloured lightning magic. She has flowing red hair and is a strong military leader. In battle, she would wear strong but light golden coloured armour over a red undershirt. 

Frederick - 26 y/o. The second son of the Portuguese King, he is married to Catarina. He would often lead alongside his wife, recognising her skill. He possesses air magic and alongside Catarina can create fierce storms. Has armour that matches hers. Short brown hair and a neat goatee. 

Duke Harold of Bedford - 42 y/o. A powerful psychic mage, he is a general under the king in charge of a regiment of psychic soldiers, the mystic guard. His men screen anyone who wants to visit the king with psychic checks. He wears robes of purple, which is the colour associated with his regiment, but he abstains from the light armour his men wear. He is a strong and capable fighter, although as he’s grown older he relies on his magic much more. Short black hair.

James "Baz" Black - 21 y/o. A slave who fights as a gladiator. Like all slaves, his surname indicates the type of magic he has, being dark magic. He's 6'3" and has a strong build, with blonde hair cut short on the back and sides. Fights with a solid metal spear and magic reinforced leather armour (Pauldrons, gauntlets up to his elbows, chest piece, back piece, thigh pads and greaves that cover the knee). Bought from the Cardiff pit by the Blades of Marseille, a travelling gladiator troop.

Huw White - 24 y/o. A fellow slave bought at the same time as Baz and are friends from their time in Cardiff. Not too strong with magic, he is very quick, fighting in heavier leather armour than Baz with a few more pieces, he uses a short sword and a dagger, getting up close to his opponents.

Guillem Vass - 40 y/o. Leader of the Blades of Marseille, this Frenchman has been fighting with them for a long time. Being a berserker, he uses heavy plate armour and a large morningstar. 6'6" and built like a tank, he is a fearsome opponent despite being past his best. Thinning hair and a thick beard suit him well.

The Quartermaster - The slaves of the Blades of Marseille in his control don't know his name, age or anything else about him. His word holds the same weight as their master and he usually delivers it at a great volume. He's tall but lanky with grey hair and neat beard. Has psychic magic and uses a slave mark to keep them in line. It will incapacitate them if they try to harm those in authority or if he decides they have disobeyed them.

Marcos Brand - 41 y/o. A gladiator who earned freedom but chose to remain fighting as a gladiator for the Royal Portuguese troop. Has powerful fire magic but with a very limited range of spells, his flamethrower will reduce most things to ashes almost immediately.

Romelie - 52 y/o - Psychic - Elf woman and the only personal guard of Catarina who isn’t English, having previously been in the Portuguese army. Lieutenant of the guard & partnered with Emily. Narrow face and purple eyes with slit pupils and dark brown hair usually in a neat single braid. Her ears extend to a point just above her head, and her angled eyes and smooth skin make it impossible to determine her age. A little short for an elf, at 5’6”, but she is quick, fighting primarily with two daggers. Relatively light armour that includes chest plate, pauldrons, vambraces, rerebraces, thigh guards and shin guards. This armour configuration is standard for the royal guards. Her red hooded cape has a Portuguese shaped coat of arms, with a purple field and a silver pall and grey griffons rampant in each of the lower sections. 

George Egerton - 35 y/o - Earth - The captain of Catarina’s personal guards and the son of Duke Hamilton of York. Partnered with Dominick. Medium length brown hair tied into a rear knot with a trimmed beard surrounding his round face. Brown eyes with a scar on his right cheek. Average height at 5’10” but well built, fighting with a sword and shield. Heavy armour for a guard, with a full breastplate, pauldrons, vambraces, rerebraces, elbow guards and gauntlets, full greaves, knee guards and cuisses. Coat of arms is a plain red field and a white rose in the centre, with 8 roses around the border.

Dominick Hood - 31 y/o - Druid with Scottish Wildcat companion. Short at 5’5” and slim. Ginger spikey hair and pale green eyes matching his companion. Partnered with George. Only armour difference to Romelie is extra reinforced & spiked vambraces. Takes on aspects from his companion when fighting, including sharp claws and teeth, very agile, a strip of hair down his face to a cat-like nose and whiskers. Has a couple of daggers for when his claws aren’t good enough. Coat of arms has a green field split by a yellow rustre extending to the shield edges. The rustre has a red border and 3 white cross crosslets, one in each top corner and the other in the centre of the rustre.

Emily Beaufort - 28 y/o - Ice - Unsure if being a good gladiator makes a good guard, if they can prove they can do their job properly she’ll accept them. Partnered with Romelie. Ice blue eyes and short blonde hair in a wavy bob. Very powerful magic but lacking in other combat compared to the other guards, but still no slouch. 5’9” with standard build, uses single shortsword, keeping the other hand free for magic. Coat of arms split in 2 down the middle. The left half is a field of yellow with a dark blue saltire, with a black sword pointing up in each quarter except the bottom one, which is facing down. The right half is light blue and dark green cheques, with a purple 7 pointed star in each green cheque.

Bryce Drummond - 29 y/o - Psychic - Average height (5’11) and build, pink eyes and long light brown hair, usually in a ponytail. Partnered with Rory. Standard armour but carries a light shield. Fights with 4 long daggers that he controls with telekinesis, with a bunch of spares around his waist. Coat of arms is a field of white with a black sash from the top left to bottom right. Below the sash is a pattern of coins, and above is a black jewelled chalice.

Rory Peel - 71 y/o - Elf man - Light - Tall (6’6”) and slim, pale yellow eyes with slit pupils, short slick light blonde hair and ears rising above his hair. Partnered with Bryce. Uses heavier armour than normal, but still lighter than George, being thinner and lacking the knee guards, instead having the shin guards cover them. Fights with a ‘hand-and-half’ bastard sword. Coat of arms is an orange field with a white border and 2 white pillars. Each section contains an upward-pointing snake and a red rose of Lancashire, the middle one above the snake and the other two below.

Hope Feinnes - 33 y/o - Lightning - Tall (5’10”) and strong, she was badly injured in the Spanish war, with a burn scar on her lower face and extending down. Partnered with Lara. Painful to speak, she usually talks with sign language. Electric blue eyes and short black hair. Standard armour but slightly thinner, fighting with two axes. Coat of arms has a gyronny of orange and maroon with a white eagle in the centre.

Lara Paget - 23 y/o - Life - Very chatty and quite friendly. Learnt sign language to understand Hope, her partner. Short (5’3”) with green eyes and long braided brown hair with a blue flower constantly present. Standard armour and fighting with a sword, master of the basics and very good at everything else. Coat of arms in the French shape, with a pale blue field and 3 red chevrons from the bottom. Top corners both have a black Fleur-de-lys.

Edwin Albon - 39 y/o - Dwarf man - Berserker - Slightly taller than dwarf average (5’9”), he is very solid stature even for his species. Partnered with Elias. Short brown hair with a trimmed beard, maroon eyes set deep in his head. Heavy armour, same as George but thicker and fighting with a great axe. Coat of arms has a field of yellow and purple diamonds with a dark grey star in the centre.

Elias Craven - 33 y/o - Fire - Short (5’6”) and slim, very few defining features. Partnered with Edwin. Bald with dark orange eyes, he wears the standard armour and fights with an axe and shield, but carries a bow and quiver with him. Coat of arms has a field of brown with a silver cross. Top left and bottom right have three red stars, top right and bottom left a black bow and arrow.


	2. A feast fit for a King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is set in a fictionalised version of European history where magic is used by everyone, and intelligent species other than humans inhabiting the world. If you don't like how I have changed your country then I'm sorry, it isn't my intention to offend anyone, I just find it so much easier to use historic themes and real-world geography rather than inventing a whole new world that I have to name myself.
> 
> Information on the magic and people of this world will be given in an appendix that I will update as more places and people get introduced.
> 
> I hope you enjoy

The great hall of the Palace of Westminster was in rapture, for the prince was engaged. King William III watched on from the top of the dais as lords and ladies feasted below. Standing on either flank were his two most senior advisers, Archbishop Aethelstein on his left, and Duke Hamilton of York on his right. 

Swedish state-sponsored pirates had been raiding the east coast of England for hundreds of years, and King William had decided that both kingdoms would benefit if these raids were to end. He had sent his only son, Prince Albion, as an envoy to negotiate peace and he returned to London with the strongest kind of peace they could hope for, a union in marriage. In his first meeting with King Magnus of Sweden, Albion spied the kings younger sister, Estrid, and asked for a dance. A month of negotiations had followed before an engagement had been agreed between the two, and an understanding that westerly raids to the British coast would be ending. 

William watched the platform below him, where Albion and Estrid were feasting together. “You don’t seem very pleased with today, Archbishop.”

Aethelstein looked startled by the king’s statement, taking a moment before replying. “Forgive me, your highness, my mood is dictated by issues occurring elsewhere.”

“It’s because she’s a pagan, isn’t it.”

“I cannot lie to you your highness,” he bowed his head, “Yes, the lack of the church in Sweden does concern me.”

“And what is your opinion of this, Duke Hamilton?”

“We should leave them to be. We believe that God granted us magic to fight against the darkness of demons, and holy magic is our proof of this. They believe that each individual magic was granted by different Gods who reside in a different realm, Thor granted thunder and lightning, Eir life, and Njord water magic. The mere presence of magic in us is their proof that they are right, and there will be nothing we can do to change that.”

“Eventually, they will all recognise their mistakes and follow the light, this is inevitable.”

The king sighed, “Aethelstein, you rose up in the church rather quickly, so you do not have the experience in dealing with other kingdoms. The church has tried for centuries to breach the Norse regions, and have consistently failed. You will not be able to change that.” He motioned for a servant to get the betrothed. “We have secured pease, and you will not threaten that.”

“Of course, your highness.” He bowed his head and stood back as the prince approached.

“My son! You have done me proud with how you have handled the negotiations. I struggle to think of a better outcome for this situation.”

“Your flattery honours me, father.” He looked towards his wife to be. “I also struggle to think of a better outcome.” 

“Will we need a translator?”

Estrid smiled, “We will not, your highness. There were lots of English servants at home. They taught me.”

“How fortunate. Please, drop the formalities, we will be family soon.” 

“Thank you.”

“We’ll soon be family, yet I don’t really know much about you, and I’ve been dying to know what type of magic you possess?”

“I was blessed by Magni, and have the power of a Berzerker. With your son, we can pour hellfire over a battlefield.” Aethelstein sneered at the mention of the pagan god.

“You have experience in battle?”

“Yes, I led many raids, some in this country.”

“Well, I hope from now on you will be devoted to protecting our land, rather than stealing from it.”

“Father, please, that is behind us now.” Albion defended Estrid.

“It is fair, and if we didn’t raid, we wouldn’t have met.” She squeezed his hand in hers.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve been told that I am a druid, and this is my familiar, Lupus.” He reached down to stroke the head of a large red wolf. “I may have rather weak magic, the weakest of our kings in centuries, but Albion is strong, as are my daughters, Gwenyth with life magic, and my heir Catarina, with lightning.”

“I wish I could have met your daughters, it’s a shame they have their own business. The power of your family is almost legendary.”

“And yet here I am, only the king because my brother was killed before he had any children.”

“A king can be great for reasons other than war.” 

“From a warrior like you, that means a lot. Thank you.” Lupus sat up next to him. “Would you two like to dance?”

“It would be our pleasure to dance for you, father.”

As they turned towards the dancefloor, Lupus howled to the hall, bringing the large hall to silence.

“Lords and ladies, I trust the feast has been acceptable.” Chears of satisfaction resounded around the hall. “Then let us move on to the next stage of the night. If couples will make their way to the floor, I hope many of you will join the future couple in dance.” 

Enhanced by magic, the instruments of the band began to fill the hall. Couples all up and down the two large tables made their way to the centre to join the royals in dance. As the band played on, the older couples were replaced with much younger, less experienced dancers trying to make a good impression on the opposite sex. Dessert was served, and as the music fell to a more background level, the dancefloor was finally cleared. As the night was coming to an end, Lupus stood up, looking towards the door to the great hall as soldiers burst in.

At their head was Duke Harold, a psychic mage, and the leader of the mystic guards, the first line of defence of the king. “Your highness, there is an aggressive force outside, we need to get you to the core of the palace.” Guards continued to stream in, lining the hall to protect the guests. The king, Lupus and his advisers rushed to the formation, who closed around the three of them and led them to the safe room. He looked behind him to see Albion and Estrid being surrounded by a similar formation before they turned down another hall.

Duke Hamilton caught up with Harold. “Who could be attacking us tonight. We have an alliance with our neighbours.”

“They aren’t carrying a flag, but they look like they maybe elves.”

“So it’s the Scottish. They’re the last I would expect, they are usually content in their forests behind the walls.”

“They seemed to appear out of nowhere, we suspect they are dark elves.”

The archbishop jumped forward. “Dark elves! We’ve hunted them to every corner of these islands, there shouldn’t be any left.” 

“This could be a final attempt to save themselves, the last few they have left.”

“They cannot be saved, Gods light will vanquish them all eventually.”

They arrived at the safe room and were quickly shepherded inside. The king spoke for the first time since being rushed from the hall. “Harold, what is going on?” The doors shut behind them. “Lupus cannot smell any soldiers outside, let alone elves.”

Harold turned to the king, “He has a good nose sire, it’s a shame he wasn’t quicker in telling you.” William looked around the room, the only soldiers present wore the armour of the mystic guard.

The air grew cold around Hamilton and ice formed in his hands, “You trai-” he was cut off by a knife cutting across his throat, red blood spraying from the gash as he fell to the floor. Lupus lept at Harold, fangs bared, but a guard pushed him away with magic, and Lupus crashed into a wall where he fell motionless. 

The king couldn’t move, Harold was holding him in place. A powerful psychic mage was almost impossible to counter by a druid.

“You are pathetic, _sire._ ” His words were dripping with venom, “You have the capability to take over half the known world, but you only ever settle for peace. The only war your soldiers have fought in wasn’t even for our own land, but to help the kingdom of Portugal expand.”

“We aren’t the largest country, we aren’t guaranteed any victory.”

“Not as you are now, but with the dragon bones you’ve collected over the centuries, you could beat anyone.” He drew a dagger from his robes.

“How can you know about them! They are a secret of the royal family for a reason.”

“Your thoughts betray you, _sire._ ” He plunged the dagger into his stomach. “If only you were a better man.” As the dagger was pulled from him, he collapsed, the blood staining the intricate carpet beneath him.

Aethelstein stepped over the king and faced up to Harold “You didn’t warn me this was happening tonight.”

“We saw an opportunity, and we took it.”

“You certainly did, my King.”

William felt the restraint put on him by Harold fade but was too weak when he tried to get up. “You were working together?”

They turned to him before Aethelstein crouched down, lifting the kings head to his. “This is what happens when you refuse to deal with the Pagans.” He dropped the king, who was losing consciousness. The last thing he saw before it faded to black was Lupus, his companion for more than 40 years, and then nothing. 

The king was dead. Long live the king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't too red weddingy was it? As I was writing I was worried that it would be a bit too similar, but I hope how it happened are different enough.  
> Anyway, this is my first work to be hosted on AO3, I've used Fanfiction.net before but I much prefer this platform. Feedback is much appreciated as I am always looking to improve. I've always found ways to describe a character as very difficult to fit into a story organically, so I'll be adding character descriptions to the appendix I mentioned in the starting notes (Hopefully a central place all the character names are will make the story easier to follow, I'm always losing track of who's who in stories).  
> I hope you enjoyed and I'll be continuing the main story soon.


	3. Into the Pits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics indicate Portuguese is being spoken. I'd rather do this than have it badly translated by Google.

From outside, they could hear the crowds filling the amphitheatre. There were thirty slaves preparing in the cage, sharpening swords, spears and axes, making sure their armour was tight. A wide antechamber ran along the bars of the pen, with heavy metal gates on either end. One way would lead to where the owners and their guests would entertain themselves, and the other end to the large, circular gladiator pit.

Baz sat in his cell with his spear on his lap, waiting patiently. The barbed head of his spear was nine inches long and flowed seamlessly into the metal handle, which was just over a meter and a half long and came to a spike on the other end. Usually, only a berserker would use a weapon this heavy but Baz liked the force the weight gave his swings, being able to punch through the heavy armour some other gladiators wore. Unlike wooden shafted spears, he could also block the strike from an axe or sword without damaging it. 

He had been a slave for as long as he could remember, and when he was twelve was sold by his parent’s owner to a gladiator pit in Cardiff. He’d trained with other gladiators for years until he was allowed into the pits, as the law dictated you had to be 16 to enter the pits. Ever since then it’s been fight or die. 

Gladiatorial combat is a no holds barred, everything goes fight until a combatant was either incapacitated or dead. This meant that magic is a core part of fighting, and if you were a weak magician, you would likely be a weak gladiator. Baz’s dark purple, nearly black eyes showed he was a dark mage, who have for years been discriminated against by the Church. If a dark mage showed themselves to be powerful, they would be killed without remorse. He knew this, and so used his magic for unseen purposes. 

Baz could form and control dark tendrils that can be controlled by his thoughts, and he can also form this darkness into solid shapes that he learned long ago couldn’t be cut or deformed if he so willed. He lined his light leather armour with this darkness, making it better protection than solid plate armour, and weighing practically nothing to him. 

His skill with his spear, along with the protection given by his magic, allowed him to go unbeaten for three years in the Cardiff pits and dominant to the point that no one would bet against him anymore. His previous owner started to view him as a financial burden rather than an opportunity, so he was sold to a travelling troop, known as the Blades of Marseille, for a lot of money. The only possessions he had were his spear and armour.

“All of you, get up!” Baz quickly did as the quartermaster demanded. Getting punished before a fight was pointless. “Listen carefully, this could be the most important fight of your lives. Do badly, and you’ll disgrace your master.”

There was a murmur within the cell. Baz had been with this troop for a month now and knew that their owner didn’t care about how well his gladiators did, to him they were just entertainment and a source of money.

“There has been a change in plans, and you won’t be fighting the Lisbon arena gladiators.”

“What!”

“You can’t do that to us!”

“We’ve prepared for their fighters.”

“SHUT UP!” The quartermaster silenced the outrage of the slaves. “You just have to adapt, you will fight who we tell you to fight! Got that!” He waited for their acknowledgement, “HAVE YOU GOT THAT!” Murmurs of yes sir came from the crowd. “Good, now get…”

“And who will we be fighting?” Everyone turned to look at Baz, who had just interrupted the quartermaster.

“You dare speak out of turn.” 

“We were just told not to embarrass our master. That will be a lot easier if we can use this last bit of time to prepare.” 

He was silent for a moment, staring daggers at the young warrior. “It will be the Royal gladiators. Prince Frederick and Princess Catarina are here. You will have your matchings soon.” 

As he hurried away, the gladiators were all silent. Royal gladiators are the best in the county, men and women who had proven themselves over long careers and were the closest of any slave to freedom. Even their weakest would be a massive task to overcome.

The room stayed silent as people moved away from the cage bars. There was nothing they could do but steel themselves for what would surely be one of the toughest days of their lives. A minute later a servant came through holding a piece of parchment. Baz took it from him and read the names aloud. Not everyone could speak English, so there were mutterings of translation in a couple of clusters.

“We’re starting with a 3 vs 3, Marion White, Ida Vass and Willow Strum against Adriana Hara, Tatiana Aarden and Vitoria Reed, then three 1 vs 1’s, Richard White vs Marco Frost, Huw White vs Emilio Vass and Lili Aarden vs Marina Vass, another 3 vs 3, Hans Hara, Marc Waller and Paul Strum against Filipe Vass, Filipe Brand and Diogo Aarden, then a couple of 2 vs 2’s, Kamil Black and Anna Waller vs Jaco Reed and Luzia Frost, followed by Remi Strum and Olina Brand vs Davide Black and Rosa Cognis, then some more 1 vs 1’s, Lyra Hara vs Cass Strum, Clair Frost vs Renata Brand, Josef Aarden vs Sebastien Hara and… Me vs Marcos Brand. We finish with a 5 vs 5, Gavan Strum, Roy Brand, Roland Reed, Stefan Aarden and Lukas Vass against Fernando Vass, Ander Hara, Fabio Frost, Eduard Brand and Sergio White.” He counted the names and found there were only 22. Some people were lucky enough to not have a fight.

“Any more information?” The question came from Huw White, who had also been bought in Cardiff with Baz.

“Just their names. Better than nothing I guess.” 

Done, the others moved away, getting into their groups if they had them, except for Guillem Vass, this groups star, who approached him. He was a big man, six and a half feet tall and built like a tank. His balding hair and many scars showed he’d been doing this for a long time.

“Lucky one, I didn’t hear my name, check again.”

“I don’t need to.” He pointed to Guillem’s name, which had been scratched out and replaced with James Black, Baz’s real name.

“Ha! Not so lucky today. You should learn to keep your mouth shut.”

“Doesn’t matter who I’m fighting, I’ll beat them.”

“Very confident, eh! This match was meant for me, it will be their best.”

“And I’m our best.”

“So he’s confident and stupid! You will not last long thinking like that.”

“I haven’t lost in three years. When was the last time you lost, Guillem? Oh yeah, it was last month in Cardiff, against me!” He pushed passed Guillem and sat in the corner, resting before his match. Guillem followed him to his corner, with more people around them turning to watch.

“You got lucky. It will run out one day.”

“I’ve been told I’m lucky for three years. It’s where this damned name came from, ‘Baz’. Ancient dwarvish for luck or some shit like that.”

“You’re normally so calm, this fight got you this mad.”

“Of course I’m fucking mad!” He got up in Guillem’s face. Baz was quite tall himself but was still looking up at the large Frenchman. “Do you know how close I was to freedom in Cardiff. I was dominant, no one even wanted their gladiators to fight me anymore, and they weren’t making money from me. But then you came along and insisted I was the one you faced. Now I’m back at the start, with freedom being the last thing on my mind.” The room was silent, everyone was watching the two of them face off. 

“Oi!” In all the commotion, no one had noticed the quartermaster enter the room. “Leave the fighting for out there.” Baz returned to his corner to sit down. “We’re about to start. Marion, Ida, Willow, step towards the gate, everyone else get back.” No one could disobey him, their slave marks, placed by a psychic sorcerer, prohibited it. They went through the gate before it was locked again and stood to wait for the entrance to the amphitheatre to open. The others pushed to the barred window to try to see what’s happening, eager to learn the level their opponents will be. 

Baz stayed where he was, trying to calm down before his fight. He needed to be in the right frame of mind and focus. He didn’t care about how good his opponent would be, he knew he was a fire mage, and that was all he needed. He sat with his eyes shut, blocking out the noises around him. 

He was roused by someone shaking his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he saw Huw was the person shaking it. He had fresh bandages on his otherwise bare chest and upper left leg. Looking around it seemed not many else had returned.

“It’s your match bud.”

“Thanks.” He got up, grabbing his spear that was resting beside him and made his way to the gate. On the other side was the quartermaster, smiling at him smugly. He was still obviously unhappy about earlier. He stood in front of the doors, steeling himself one last time.

They opened outwards and he strode forward, briefly blinded by how bright it was. He looked around briefly. It was the largest he’d been to, stretching high with two tiers. It was easy to spot where the royalty were, halfway up the lower stand on his left. 

His opponent was already waiting in front of him. Marcos Brand was a fire mage. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was stocky. He was wearing plate armour and had a large battle axe. With two large curved blades and a spike on top, it looked menacing. He looked a similar age to Guillem and was obviously happy to see someone with light leather armour walk out. 

A loud bell rang across the arena, signalling the start of the fight. Baz stood his ground, preparing to wear his older, heavily laden opponent out. Marcos approached him, giving his axe an almighty swing from over his right shoulder. Baz jumped back, deflecting the axe into the dirt. The impact obviously jarred him, and Baz took the opportunity to jab into his chest plate before backing away quickly. There was a small hole above the heart, but he hadn’t pierced the skin. That armour was thicker than it looked. As he backed away, he rotated to his right to get the longer end of the oval behind him.

Marcos approached him again, obviously irritated he’d so easily been deflected. He stepped out of the way from a blow from the lower-left before blocking the axe coming down on him from above. He continued to hammer in blows, each being dodged, deflected or blocked completely. Baz blocked a heavy blow from his right, pushing back against it and knocking his opponent slightly off balance. He took half a step back before jabbing with the butt of his spear, aiming for a gap between the thigh and knee plates. His blow was deflected away, but he quickly spun the blade to slash at his opponents face. Despite how useful they’d be it was seen as cowardly for a gladiator to wear a helmet, but Marcos ducked under the swipe before he regretted this convention. 

Baz continued to back away, aware of the space he had behind him. His opponent was warier now, seeing Baz was no slouch. Baz was about to go for another stab but had stepped back once too far, tripping on an uneven stone that had gone unnoticed. He stumbled back, catching himself before he fell completely, but he wasn’t quick enough getting to his feet and was struck heavily in the chest and flew backwards, dropping his weapon.

A roar erupted in the arena as Marcos turned to the Prince and Princess, raising his axe towards them. Baz’s magic may have saved his life, but he still had the wind knocked out of him and lay motionless until he got his breath back. The crowd were on their feet, cheering their home man, believing he had another good victory.

As Baz got to his feet, running to retrieve his weapon, the sounds of victory were replaced by shock. He inspected the ground around them and found the surface was much more even in front of the VIP section. He looked down at his chest piece, flapping about, cut in two and exposing the dark armour below. He created a small blade of darkness and cut away the rest, discarding it before it could get in the way. Marcos was obviously shocked by Baz getting up again. He’d hit him very hard and cleanly, even heavy armour like his own would struggle to save someone from that blow. He was already halfway back to his own antechamber, the doors quickly slamming shut as the fight was ongoing. This distance this had made gave Baz time to change ends, with his back now facing the royals.

Marcos made his way towards him, but this time didn’t close the distance completely and instead raised his right hand, unleashing a huge inferno of fire. Baz was sore from the blow he just received, but dove to the left and rolled out of it before charging forward. Marcos reacted by ending the flames and reaching to raise his axe to block. He was too slow, and this time Baz hit the gap between the thigh and knee, tearing through ligaments and bone. He screamed in agony and Baz kicked him in the chest, falling backwards. Baz then targetted his left elbow, stabbing through it and pinning it into the ground, making it impossible to lift the axe again. He dropped down, pinning Marcos underneath him and forming another blade of darkness at his neck. Baz was breathing heavily, staring down at his beaten opponent gritting his teeth through the pain. 

The amphitheatre was silent for what seemed like an age, before another bell rang out, signifying the end of the fight. He leapt up, ripping the head of his spear from Marcos’ arm and causing another roar of pain before looking towards the prince, awaiting a decision. He was out of his seat and every eye on him as they awaited the fate of their long time champion. He raised his fist with his thumb concealed within his fingers, indicating to spare him. 

Baz bowed his head before quickly making his way back to his antechamber, the doors slowly opening as he approached. From the other side came some medics, no doubt life mages, rushing to the side of the fallen opponent. 

He entered the antechamber, the door to the cell being held open by an irritated quartermaster. There were congratulations from his companions inside, some of whom were about to fight themselves. Boosted by this victory, the five of them seemed eager to get out there, the mood having changed significantly from when Baz had last seen them. He dissolved his magic armour before grabbing a rag from the wall, wiping down his weapon. 

As he was removing the rest of his leather, Huw came towards him in congratulations. “Tough fight?”

Baz smiled back, “Never in doubt.”

*******

On the royal platform, Catarina was with her husband, Frederick. They had received word earlier that day her younger brother was engaged, and they would be having a feast in a week to celebrate. Unfortunately, there were commitments they had in Lisbon that meant they would not be able to attend, but she would make sure they visited as soon as possible.

Most of the battles so far had ended in victory for their royal gladiators. Only in the second 1 vs 1 and the first 2 vs 2 had the Blades of Marseille won, but due to the known skill of the Royal Portuguese gladiators and their unexpected arrival, the combatants were shown mercy when possible. This meant that despite many of them receiving heavy injuries, only seven had died so far. 

They were currently waiting for the next opponent to appear, apparently a last-minute replacement for another fighter. Their champion, Marcos Brand, was stood in the middle. Usually, you will earn freedom if you can stay in the royal troop for 4 years whilst keeping a good winning record but after Marcos had won his he’d requested to keep fighting. It was all he knew, and he enjoyed it, leading to this being his ninth year fighting for them. 

Finally appearing from the tunnel was the opponent, a tall, well built young man with blonde hair, short on the sides but trimmed on top. He was wearing light leather armour and was twirling a long spear. He was a huge contrast from his stocky opponent in his heavy armour and with years of experience behind him. 

Once the battle started her opinion changed. Despite being on the defensive, he was clearly controlling this fight, getting the first good hit in and dragging Marcos around the arena. Unfamiliarity with this arena soon showed through, as he stumbled on uneven ground and took a massive blow to the chest. As the stadium erupted into cheers, Frederick stood to ring the bell, ending the fight.

_“Wait! This hasn’t ended.”_

_“Did you not see that, he’s surely dead.”_

_“He would be in two pieces if that hit properly. He’s hiding something.”_ In the middle, Marcos had clearly not noticed the bell hadn’t rung and bowed to them before heading to his tunnel. Frederick still stood by the bell, prepared to ring if nothing happened. The young man finally moved, running to his spear and moving towards them. As he came closer, Catarina noticed the darkness where the leather used to be and understood why he hid it. Unfortunately for him, the Patriarch of Lisbon had also seen this and had moved forward in his seat, watching closely. 

What happened next shocked her. Marcos cast a large flamethrower towards the young man, and he lept to the side to dodge. He was slow, however, and his lower half was engulfed by the torrent. Catarina had seen Marcos’ magic before and it was damn powerful, even with their brief moment in contact his legs should be cinders but they were totally unharmed. She seemed to be the only one to realise this, jumping up from her seat when she saw it.

Within a moment though, the match was over, Marcos had two horrible wounds and was pinned down. Frederick got up once again, and this time the bell did ring. There was no denying this fight was over now.

As her husband gave his verdict she studied him more carefully, looking for any evidence of the burns that should be there, but no matter where she looked, there was nothing. It seems his magic wasn’t the only thing he was hiding. When Frederick finally sat down she turned to him.

“ _I want to meet him.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With new characters come more additions to the appendix.  
> I will try my best to keep it spoiler-free, just giving some basic descriptions of the characters.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, more updates will be coming soon


	4. Opportunity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on Italics simply indicate a language other than English is spoken. I will do my best to make it clear who can understand

Today was tough for the Blades of Marseille, only winning three matches, losing nine, with eleven of their comrades not making it through. They were at the arena’s graveyard, with Guillem leading the proceedings. 22 people may have been scheduled to fight, but this troop consisted of 63 fighters in total, although that was now reduced to 52. Baz may have only been with them for a month, but he’d already learnt the procedure. Tomorrow there would be a slave market, and any that had died would be replaced. The only concern their master had would be about how costly 11 new gladiators will be. They considered themselves lucky to bury their dead, one of the few bits of respect they were offered.

“And now we leave you to rest, Marion White, Willow Strum, Lili Aarden, Marc Waller, Remi Strum, Clair Frost, Josef Aarden, Gavan Strum, Roy Brand, Stefan Aarden and Lukas Vass. May you finally have freedom in the afterlife.” 

Out of the dead, Baz only really knew Gavan Strum, who was bought from Cardiff along with Huw and himself. He was a couple of years younger than Baz, not even 20, but had been owned by the pit as long as Baz had. It hurt him to say goodbye like this, but if they stayed too long the Quartermaster would end this privilege and throw them in a mass grave as so many others did. 

They made their way back to the caravan in the setting sun. There would be one more day in Lisbon before they moved on, moving south-east towards Gibraltar. Preparation for leaving would begin in the morning, in the meantime, they could rest their wounds and mourn the dead. As he settled down for the night, he couldn’t help but think of Gavan. They weren’t that close, however he had trained with him multiple times. Like many others, he wasn’t suited for combat. In Cardiff he was more often used to fill the numbers, fighting rarely and against weak opponents. The week the Blades of Marseille were visiting he’d fought the fight of his life, impressing the master who bought him along with Baz and Huw. In the 3 previous fights with the Blades of Marseille, he’d fought all of them in the same quintet. He’d slotted into the team nicely, providing support with well controlled lightning magic, but this match was a slaughter. Four of them were killed by the ruthless assault from the Royal Gladiators and the team would have to be completely rebuilt. This week had truly been brutal and Baz couldn’t wait to get back to fighting more regular opponents.

*******

“Baz, come here!” They had finished packing the caravans and were waiting for the master to return when the quartermaster shouted for Baz. It was approaching midday and the slave market was in full swing, the quartermaster should have been there helping purchase the slaves and placing new slave marks. He looked towards Huw, who just shrugged.

“Giving me that fight yesterday not enough for him?” Baz started to make his way over.

“Bring your equipment! You’ll need it.”

Huw met him at the back of their wagon. “Where’s your stuff?”

“The spears here at the side.” He took it out and rested it on the wagon. “But my armour packs at the bottom.”

“You’re joking.”

“Sorry mate.”

“Fucks sake Baz! Get it quickly, I’ll tidy for you. Don’t want to keep him waiting again.”

“Thanks bud, I owe you one.” It took them a minute to find it, being further in than they thought. Once they finally got it, he grabbed his spear and hurried to the quartermaster.

“About time. Put it on, quickly.” Baz sighed at the instructions but complied anyway. He didn’t want to give him any reasons to activate the slave mark. He was going to repair the chest piece on the journey to Gibraltar, but for now, he had to make do, throwing the other half back towards Huw.

“Let’s go, hurry.”

“Where’re we going?”

“Shut up, just follow.” Baz sighed again. The quartermaster was clearly displeased to have been kept waiting and he was probably still irritated Baz didn’t die yesterday. He noticed they were moving towards the amphitheatre, and this was exactly where they went. Moving through the slave’s entrance, they made their way back to the same cell as the day before, but went past it and straight through the doors to the pit. The large stands were now empty, with the only other people in sight standing in the middle of the ring.

They turned as they heard them coming, and Baz had a faint sense of familiarity as they got closer. 

“Your Highnesses,” the quartermaster bowed low and respectfully, “Here he is, the one who beat your champion.”

Baz wasn’t stupid, he bowed as well.

“What language does he speak?” The princess, Catarina spoke first.

“He’s English my lady, but I warn you, he likes to speak out of turn.”

“I’m Welsh.” As if to prove the point just made, he corrected the quartermaster. 

“Good, so we won’t need a translator.” She started to walk around him, eying top to bottom. “So what’s your name?”

“He’s known as Baz, your highness.”

“I meant his actual name.” 

“I’m s...”

“And I want him to speak for himself.” The quartermaster's face turned from embarrassment to anger as he stared down at Baz.

He hesitated having never been in a situation like this before. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure how to address royalty.”

“That’s fine, you’ll learn.”

He glanced at the quartermaster, who was somehow looking even angrier. “My name is James Black.”

She shared a look with her husband, who looked concerned about the magic type. Stepping forward the Portuguese prince spoke next. “What was it you did to become a slave?”

“I was born into it sir. My parents were both noughts, and they were slaves as a result. Their master sold me to the Cardiff pit when I was 12.”

“And how would you classify your magic.”

He hesitated, knowing that powerful dark magicians were persecuted in countries that follow The Church. 

Losing his patience, Frederick turned to the quartermaster. “How’s his magic?”

“His power and variety is maybe a little above average, but his control makes him unique.”

“How so?” Catarina took back control of the questioning, again looking at Baz for the answer.

As he thought for a moment of how to demonstrate his eyes were drawn to the sheath on her waist. “May I see your sword?”. 

She approved his request without a word, stabbing it into the ground and then standing back, allowing him to inspect it. The short sword was about 2 feet long and the blade an inch and a half wide. It’s hilt clearly moulded for her hands and an amber gem set into the pommel. The cross guard was only an inch wide on either side, and again had amber in the ends. It was intricately detailed with many carvings, most of which represented lightning magic. The first three inches of the straight blade didn’t have a cutting edge, with the steel widening slightly as it sharpened. It’s spine was designed to resemble two symmetrical lightning bolts, meeting just below the tip. Baz looked at it for only a couple of seconds before bringing his hands together, darkness emanating from his palms. As he moved them apart, his right hand was holding a sword hilt and his left was creating a black blade. At first it looked fairly basic, but only seconds later the details emerged and sharpened, creating an exact copy of the sword in the ground. He stepped forward and placed the copy next to the original.

Catarina took them out of the ground, inspecting them more closely. As far as she could tell they looked identical, the only differences being the copy was a purple tinged black and was almost weightless. She was stunned.

“That was incredible.” She swung it a few times and sheathed the copy, checking the fit. “Do you have to maintain it with energy?”

“Once it’s made I don’t have to sustain it, but I will only start to recover that energy once it is dispelled. I can only create a certain amount at a time because of that.”

“So what do you call it? Dark creation?”

“The magic itself isn’t unique, it’s just advanced tendrils.” He demonstrated by opening his right hand and creating a short tendril of darkness from each fingertip, moving them above his hand. “It’s just my control of them that makes it unique.”

“Fascinating.” She returned to him the sword copy, which he dispelled into smoke. “ _ Have you ever heard of anything like this?”  _ She turned to her husband, speaking in Portuguese.

“ _ No, control rarely varies from person to person. Usually only power and variety change.”  _ He looked at her, seeing the eagerness in her eyes.  _ “You would like to buy him.” _

_ “With no delay.” _

_ “Ok.” _ He motioned for the quartermaster to walk with him towards the exit as Catarina stayed with Baz.

He may not have understood the words, but their actions were obvious. He was getting moved on once again. “So I’m going to be a royal gladiator?”

“Nope.” She replied whilst watching Frederick leave.

“What?” He was shocked, “Then why would you want to buy me?”

She watched Frederick turn the corner before looking at Baz again. Raising her left hand towards him, before he could react a bolt of golden electricity struck his chest with a sharp crack. However, instead of creating a hole where his heart should be, the wall behind him exploded, creating a small crater and spraying lots of debris and dust into the air.

“There is so much about you that is unique, I can’t just let it slip away from me can I.” 

Baz was shocked that she knew magic didn’t affect him. “How did you find out?”

“I saw it in your fight with Marcos, your legs were unscathed by his flamethrower. You can’t be that surprised, you weren’t hiding it at all.”

“I guess I’m just used to people thinking it was luck.” Baz thought back to all the fights where his opponents should have killed him. “So what is the role you would like me to fill, if I’m not going to be a gladiator.” 

“I was attacked last month in a poor assassination attempt, and I lost a couple of my personal guards. You’ll be replacing one of them.”

“Wow… that’s incredible.” Baz was truly thankful, he never thought he would have an opportunity like that. “How exactly will that work?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, though you may face some resistance. It will be difficult to find someone who will partner with a slave.”

“What about another slave? It would be impossible for us to disobey you.”

She thought for a moment. “That could work. I’m guessing you have someone in mind.”

“I do. Huw White is another gladiator I grew up with. You might remember him, he was the only other single gladiator to win yesterday. We’ve fought together many times and form a good team. He might not have any unique abilities, but he is powerful and a good person. He doesn’t deserve to live his life fighting to survive.” 

“I’ll think about it.” At that moment Frederick and the quartermaster returned to the amphitheater with a new, elven woman beside them. “One last thing, before they reach us. Why does your slave mark if you’re immune?”

“It was placed on me before my magic, and my immunity, developed, so it works as normal. I can also consciously allow any magic to affect me, so I can still be healed by life mages.”

“Just when I was thinking you couldn’t get any better.”

*******

From the amphitheater they left through the private gate below the royal box, where carriages were waiting for them. The royal couple stepped into the lead golden carriage, which was being pulled by two white horses and had an armour clad guard standing on each external corner. The much simpler rear carriage was the one Baz, the quartermaster and the elf, whose name was Romelie, rode in. 

Baz and the quartermaster sat on the same side of the carriage, facing Romelie on the other side. Whilst he had seen them from a distance, Baz had never really seen an elf up close. Elves were a proud race and would often choose death over a life enslaved, and so they were never found in gladiator pits. Her skin seemed impossibly smooth, without any mark or blemish to be seen and with her age impossible to judge. Her long ears rose to a point almost level with the top of her head and her angular eyes had vertical slit pupils interrupting the purple iris. Her dark brown hair was tied in a single braid and she was wearing light metal armour and a maroon hooded leather cape, which Baz had noticed had a family crest in the center. She spent the whole journey looking out the window to her left. 

After a few minutes on the move the carriage ground to a halt and without a word the quartermaster got out. Looking where he was heading, Baz recognised the place as a slave market. In the large square there were multiple platforms where men and women in chains were being advertised. Auctioneers stood beside the slaves taking bids from the crowds beneath. The quartermaster made his way towards the crowd at the far side of the square, which must have been the stage where gladiators were being sold.

As they sat and waited, Romelie finally spoke.  _ “How many times have you been through a market like this?” _ She may have been speaking Portuguese, but Baz could clearly understand what she was saying in his mind, confirming from her eyes she was a Psychic.

“Just once, when I was twelve. My parents' master sold me to the Cardiff pit and then I was bought directly from that pit last month.”

_ “Why does the princess want you?” _

__ “She wants me to be a guard.”

_ “Yes, I already know that. Being a guard is a huge honour for men and women who have proven themselves loyal and strong. What does she see in you?” _ Her eyes narrowed as she inspected him. Catarina had told him he’d have opposition from others, but Romelie seemed more curious than anything.

“I’m sorry but I can’t tell you that.” 

As if knowing she wouldn’t get anything more from him, she went back to watching the world outside the carriage, sitting in silence until the door opened again.

When it did, the master sat next to Romelie and the quartermaster next to Baz.

“This better be worth my time.” The master spoke with a thick french accent, but decades of travelling Europe meant he spoke many of the languages well. “I’m going to miss the prime lots for this.” Baz didn’t respond, he knew the master didn’t like his slaves talking directly to him.

Romelie knocked on the wall behind her, indicating to the driver they were ready to leave. This leg of the journey, much like the first, was spent in total silence. Soon though they had reached their destination, Ribeira Palace.

They entered the vast courtyard through a gate in the central block, facing the river where a number of ships were moored. The courtyard had a fountain at its center and was flanked on three of its sides by the palace. The wings on either side met the waterfront with large domed towers standing proud of the rest of the building. The golden carriage the Prince and Princess were in was stationary outside an entrance to the right wing. Their carriage continued to make its way around the fountain in the middle before stopping behind the royal transport. 

_ “Follow me.”  _ Romelie stepped out of the carriage and led them into the palace. Baz had never seen a building like it, the large spacious corridors, polished tile floors, well kept wall decorations and a painted ceiling made it feel like he'd stepped into a different world. He naturally walked a step behind the others, but frequently found himself having to move a bit faster after being distracted by a piece of art.

Romelie led them up some stairs and they arrived in the tower Baz had seen from the courtyard. They passed two guards on their way into the room, which turned out to be a library. Baz recognised it as such from his early childhood, but this was many times larger than the one he’d been in before. Shelves full of books lined every wall and there was a staircase going up to what he could only imagine was another floor of this. At the center of it all however was a table surrounded by three large green leather sofas. Princess Catarina and Prince Frederick, who were sitting on the sofa facing the door, rose to greet them.

“Your highnesses.” The master kissed both of their hands before the quartermaster did the same. Romelie indicated to Baz to sit on the sofa to the left with her while the masters sat on the right.

“Now we’re all here, we shouldn’t delay any further.” Catarina started by speaking directly to the master. “I’m sure you will already know that I want to take James here out of your hands.” It felt weird for Baz to hear his actual name spoken. “The first thing I need to know is how much you bought him for so I can make you a reasonable offer.”

“I got him for a mere 15 gold pieces my Lady, however his value to me is much more than it was to his previous owner.”

“Could you elaborate on the reason why?”

“Well, when he was at the same pit, the spectators all knew his strength. People wanted to see him fight, but they would all bet on him to win. Overall, the pit thought that by having him stay they would lose money, so they sold him to me. Now, I have the potential to win a grand tournament and earn more than 200 gold pieces.” Baz felt strangely proud upon hearing how highly the master valued him.

“Grand tournaments feature the best combatants in the world, there is no guarantee you will ever win one with him. However, right now you can take 50 gold pieces and buy two top tier fighters to replace him in the market today.”

The master looked tempted by this. He looked towards the quartermaster, who spoke in french.  _ “That’s a good profit. All we did was drag him around for a month and a bit. Also, he’s a pain in my arse, I’d like to be rid of him.” _

_ “Hmm. You’re right.” _ The master was silent for a bit, clearly thinking hard about the decision he was about to make. “I think… I would like to accept your offer.”

Catarina was beaming, she had thought it would be much more difficult to acquire Baz. “Brilliant. I hope we can both see this as beneficial.” She turned to her husband, speaking in Portuguese,  _ “We still have some of the budget left.” _

_ “If you stay under it, I have no complaints.” _

_ “Thank you sweetheart.  _ I hope there is another offer you can consider for me.”

“Oh.” The master thought there was only one sale happening today. “Who else do you want?”

“One of our gladiators was killed yesterday. I would like to replace him with the man that killed him.” She knew exactly who she was asking for, but didn’t want to seem too eager for him like she had with Baz.

The master looked towards the quartermaster to ask who was being requested.  _ “Huw White, sir. We bought him in Cardiff for 20 gold. We can find others like him.” _

The master was satisfied with his assessment. “Huw is also very capable, but I can let him go for 30 gold.”

Before Catarina could respond, Frederick interjected,  _ “Do you really want a man protecting your life that is only worth 30. I can understand why you want the other one, but you’re the future Queen of England. Only the best will do.” _

_ “I believe he’s good enough.”  _

_ “You’ve only seen one fight, you can’t judge it off only that.” _

_ “I think I can. Emilio was one of our best and he barely got close to winning that match. Huw looked like he was toying with him at times, dragging the fight out longer to make it seem like he isn’t as good as he truly is.” _

__ Frederick thought about the fight again and how he remembered openings appearing but not being taken.  _ “How do you know that that is proof of his skill. It could just as easily be proof of a lack of skill, experience, intelligence or even all three. How do we know Emilio wasn’t having a poor day.” _

_ “I know because I’ve seen Emilio fight before. He was executing everything exactly how he had before, but he was absolutely outclassed. You know I have a good eye for this, please just trust me.” _

__ Frederick wanted to protest some more, but he knew she had already made her mind up and there was no changing it once that happened. “ _ Fine. I trust you.” _

_ “Thank you.” _ She turned back to the men who were waiting patiently for a decision to be made. “I’ll take him.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it’s been 8 months since I updated this. Of course my motivation returns to me as soon as I return to University.
> 
> Hopefully it stays with me for a bit longer this time (but I don’t want it to ruin my studies).


	5. New Introductions

Baz didn’t know how to act. Not only had he been bought out of the gladiator pits but he had managed to get his friend Huw out with him. Whilst the Prince and Princess were speaking in Portuguese he was worried Frederick would convince her not to buy Huw as well, but she stood strong and accepted the offer. They were out. Wow. He just sat there silently as the specifics were sorted.

“José!” Catarina called for someone just outside the library. As the doors opened a man with light brown, slicked-back hair wearing the clothes of a butler stepped in. _“Could you get 80 gold pieces from the treasurer and bring them right back.”_ He nodded and left without a word. She turned back to the masters on the sofa next to her. “The treasurer is just next door, he won’t take long. Once José returns he will escort you both to the carriage you arrived in. You can return to the slave market, it should still be in full swing, and then the quartermaster can return here with Huw. We will transfer both of you to our control when you’re both here.”

“Thank you, your highness. It has been a pleasure doing business with you today. If either of them displeases you, we will be returning to Lisbon in July and we can see what we can do about it.” 

When José returned a moment later the masters got up and bowed to the royals. “It’s been an honour.” They said almost in unison before following José back to the carriage.

Once they left Frederick broke the silence. “Are you satisfied with how that went?”

“Absolutely. That could not have gone any more smoothly and I got everything I wanted.”

“Then I am also happy.” He kissed her before getting up to leave. He stopped and turned to Baz as he passed. “I hope you do not disappoint us. You’ll regret it if you do.” And with that, he left.

“Don’t mind what he has to say, you are my personal guard. Above all else, you will be answering to me.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything for now, Romelie will show you where you will live from now on, and I will see you again when Huw arrives.”

Romelie got up to do as she was told, with Baz a step behind. Just before they left the library Baz turned around to face Catarina again. “Thank you.” 

*******

Baz and Huw were in their new room. It had a basic layout, containing the beds, Baz’s above Huw’s, a desk, an armour stand and a wardrobe each. Neither of them had any clothes to put in the wardrobe and they were both told they would be equipped with new armour soon. The mattresses, while thin, were more than either of them had ever had before. Huw was lying on his whilst Baz was sitting up with his back against the wall.

“Why did you drag me here with you?” Huw hadn’t spoken much since arriving at the palace, taken aback by the sudden changes in his life.

“Because you’re my friend.”

“It could have ended your chances though. Requesting something from a Princess within minutes of meeting her, you had no idea how she would react.”

“You’re too good to be a gladiator, it would be a waste for you to live your life like that.”

“Why did it even occur to you to think of me?”

“I thought of you because you would have done the same for me. We’ve known each other for so long, you’re the closest thing I have to family.” Huw didn’t respond, thinking over what was just said. They both sat in silence until there was a knock on the door. Baz jumped off his bed to open the door, revealing the figure of the elf Romelie.

_“How do you like your new room?”_ She continued to mentally translate her Portuguese for the two English speakers.

“It’s brilliant, more than we’ve ever had before.” Huw sat up to face the door as Baz replied.

_“I’m glad you like it.”_ She smiled at the two former gladiators. _“Anyway, I’m here to begin introducing you to your new jobs. We can start by talking in here and then I will take you to get some equipment made amongst other things.”_ Baz jumped back onto his bed as she took a seat from one of the desks _. “The most basic thing to know is that all of your duties will be performed as a pair. You will eat, sleep and work together. As personal guards to the Princess, you need to be in sync and be able to make the right call instantly. If one of you extends, the other must stay back and keep with her highness. The most important thing in your life from now is keeping her safe. Understand?”_

Huw nodded, but Baz had something to ask. “What about the Prince? They are married.” 

_“You will have a part to play for his safety, but if you have to make a choice, you choose the Princess.”_ Baz acknowledged this ruling. _“The room at the end of the corridor is the Prince and Princesses private bedroom. If there is an invader in the palace you are permitted to go anywhere, even the bedroom, as long as you are with the Princess. Along each side of the corridor are six rooms like this one, each with a pair of personal guards living in them. Along this side of the building are the Princesses guards, and the Princes are on that side. We are officially representatives of the English army and they represent the Portuguese army, and that is why she will always be your priority.”_ Baz and Huw both acknowledged this information.

_“At any time there will be a pair from each guard on duty, so you will probably need to learn at least some basic Portuguese to work with them. There won’t always be a psychic around to translate for you.”_

“Where will we need to go to learn?” Huw seemed eager to learn a new language.

_“Can you read?”_

They both confirmed they could. It was rare for gladiators to be literate, but Baz knew from his childhood and had taught Huw over the years.

_“Then you will be provided with books to learn while you are off duty. For the immediate future though, you will be working your shifts alongside me and my partner, Elise, so we can show you how to perform. We’ll be in charge of the Prince, so you can just focus on Catarina. Everyone in the personal guard operates as the same rank with the exception of two of us, George is the captain and I’m his lieutenant. As far as your slave marks are programmed, they will only respond to the commands of Catarina, Frederick, and George, in that order.”_ The two men both instinctively rubbed the back of their necks. Those three people could control every aspect of their lives if they wished.

_“There is also only one piece of official uniform you will need to wear and that will be the maroon hooded cape. As it is an honour to be a personal guard our house crests are usually designed onto them, but since you don’t have a crest they will be blank for now. As for what else you wear, it is up to each individual guard. They need to wear what they feel will help them best perform their duties, which usually means lighter armour. The royal guard are the large forces that will take on attacking armies and they have heavier armour than we do, as we will be on guard for small groups or even individual assassins. We will visit the armourer tomorrow, so think about what you want before then and they will make it all for you. I know that you both used to use leather armour but it is a requirement that you wear metal while accompanying the Princess. Before either of you complain about that, it will not be made of normal metal.”_ As she said this she removed one of her vambraces and handed it to Huw. _“It’s known as Titan steel, and as you can see it’s incredibly light, half the weight of normal steel but still even stronger. It’s a very rare substance that is difficult to craft with, so only the royal family and their personal guards are fitted with it.”_ Huw passed the armour up to Baz who started to inspect it. He was impressed with how light it was and couldn’t believe it would be stronger than normal heavy armour. He passed it back to Romelie who was moving on to the next topic.

_“At the start of every week, we will use Catarina's schedule to determine the shifts. They will usually last 8 hours at a time, but because we will often be moving through the city this is flexible and you will need to be prepared to stay on duty for much longer than planned until you are relieved. When off duty you will be expected to maintain your armour and weapons and attend the barracks for sparring practice daily. Other than that though, the time is yours. If you follow me I will give you a quick tour of the palace.”_

She got up from the desk and left the room, holding the door open for the other two to follow. As Baz left the room he looked down the ornate corridor to his left which ended at a grand double door. This setup was nothing like he had expected, being so close to the Princess and not tucked away in a servant quarter. The seriousness put into their role was nothing to be scoffed at. 

In their tour Romelie showed them where guests would stay, ranging from the most important to less so. She showed them to the grand banquet hall where hundreds of guests would be entertained, and also to the much smaller dining hall which was used daily by the royal couple and for smaller receptions that didn’t require such a vast space. They were shown back to the library which stood over 4 floors and had an observatory in the dome on the roof. Other than the table Baz sat at when he was first brought to the palace, the other floors had desks for scholars to read at as well as private reading rooms for those who wanted them. Being one of the largest libraries in the city, scholars were often allowed entry to use the many works that were stored there. 

After the library, they were taken into the courtyard in the centre of the complex. _“The Ribeira palace these days is not one but two residences. 10 years ago King Andre II built a new residence in Ajuda, a region of Lisbon just outside the city, and made it his own. He then split this palace in two, giving the east wing to his daughter Louisa, and the west wing to Frederick and Catarina. The west wing is larger and more capable of hosting the large functions Frederick and Catarina's more senior positions dictate.”_

“Could I ask a question about that?” Huw stopped Romelie before she led them back inside. “Catarina is the heir to the English throne and Frederick has an older brother ahead of him, so why do they live in Lisbon and not London?”

She stopped to think for a second before giving her answer. _“There is an alliance between the kingdoms of Portugal and England that has existed for hundreds of years, but in the last decade, it has strengthened significantly. 9 years ago the Kingdom of Spain declared war on us, claiming we did not suitably serve the light. They quickly built their army in the area and invaded our southern regions and in just over a month they had taken Algarve and much of Baixo Alentejo. This sweeping attack had us rattled and we were already preparing for a final defence of Lisbon. We had asked for aid from England but it was taking time for them to arrive, we were worried they weren’t going to make it and when they did arrive it was a much smaller force than we were expecting, only three thousand troops landed in Lisbon to help repel the Spanish. At that point, we had gathered 20,000 of our own troops for our last stand but we were still outnumbered two to one by the Spanish. I was a mid-level officer at the time so I wasn’t very well informed, but the English seemed very optimistic and not worried they were vastly outnumbered. The Spanish army had made camp just outside of the city of Evora and was only days away from arriving at our doorstep when we were given the orders to begin marching towards them. We didn’t know why we were doing this, but they were orders so we followed. When we closed in on the Spanish army we found that over half their force had turned around and was heading back south, leaving about 10,000 troops to try and maintain the presence of the whole army. It turns out a much larger English force, themselves about 20,000 strong, had landed near Faro on our south coast a week earlier than the force in Lisbon. They were in the process of retaking our land from the smaller forces left behind by the Spanish and so they split their main force to fight them off. We quickly caused the 10,000 in Evora to retreat before closing in on the 30,000 that were engaging the English. It didn’t take long for them to be crushed as our two forces engaged them from two sides. We had spent over a month failing to defend our lands from this surprise attack, and once they got involved the invaders were swept aside in a week.”_

Huw had no idea what this had to do with his question but he was sure she would get there. _“King William III himself led the forces that assisted us from the south, but he left Catarina, who was only 16 at the time, in charge of the troops that marched with us from Lisbon in her first experience of battle. King Andre was furious with Spain for invading, and since we had just wiped out their main force we went on the counter-attack. Over the next year, we marched through the south of Spain, although we didn’t rush and consolidated our new lands properly. It was during this campaign that Catarina and Frederick met as both kings wanted them to gain experience leading armies. We had control over the whole of Andalusia and were making impressions in Extremadura when the Spanish settled for peace. We would keep Andalusia but would withdraw from expanding further, which King Andre agreed upon. William didn’t trust the Spanish would keep their word though, so when he withdrew back to England he left a force of 10,000 men led by Catarina to help us to protect our new lands. Before he left though, Frederick took the opportunity to propose marriage to Catarina, who he had grown close with over the year of the war, and they got married a few months later. Since then Catarina has spent most of her time in Portugal, occasionally using her troops to end small uprisings from former Spanish lords who weren’t happy with having land taken from them. There hasn’t been one of those uprisings for two years now, so the English now only have 2,000 men stationed here. Does that answer your question?”_

“That and more.” Huw hadn’t expected so much recent history was needed for that answer.

_“Good.”_ From there she continued the tour, leading them back inside. There wasn’t much left to show them though as she led them through the servants' areas before ending just outside a door that smelt to Baz like it must be the kitchens. _“Shit, we’re late. Dinner is served every day at 7 pm in the kitchens. Breakfast is at 7 am and lunch at noon.”_ Opening the door to the room beyond they saw there were five large dining tables, each full of people eating. Occasionally someone would come through the door at the back with a plate of food. _“This is where all the staff eat, including the rest of the personal guards, who I will introduce you to now.”_ She led them to the table at the far left of the room where seven people were eating. Those that were on the far side of the table noticed them approaching and pointed them out to the ones with their back to them. They all stopped eating and watched them approach.

_“Everyone, at long last we have found the replacements for Adam and Tom. I’d like to introduce you to Huw White and James Black.”_ Not everyone looked as welcoming as Romelie had been. Other than a single dwarf, everyone there was human, and every one of them was wearing their armour and cloaks with weapons sitting next to them, ready to jump to action at any time. As she went around the table she told them their names, magic type and who they were partnered with.

She started off introducing her partner Emily Beaufort, who uses Ice magic. Next to her was Elias Craven and Edwin Albon, the Dwarf, who use fire and berzerker magic respectively. Opposite them were Lara Paget, a life mage, and her partner Hope Feinnes, who uses lightning. On the far side of Hope was Dominick Hood, a druid who’s familiar was a large tabby cat that was sitting on the table next to his plate, eyeing Baz and Huw. Finally, sitting at the end of the table was Dominick's partner and the captain of the personal guard, George Egerton, an earth mage. As he was introduced, George got up from his seat and made his way towards the two newcomers, looking them up and down.

He stopped in front of Baz, getting right in his face. “Our options weren’t that limited. What makes you so special?”

He was no stranger to people trying to intimidate him, and Baz didn’t take a step back. “I’ve got a charming smile.”

George narrowed his eyes at him and raised a hand as if to strike, but Romelie stopped him.

_“Stop it, George. This is the will of the Princess, there is nothing you can do about it.”_

He turned to her. “You want me to accept them, just like that?”

_“Yes. I have.”_

“They’ll have to prove themselves to me first.”

_“Good. I was going to show them the barracks tomorrow morning, why don’t you meet us there and have a spar.”_

“Fine.” He turned to the rest of the table. “Everyone hear that? We’re in the barracks tomorrow at nine sharp to test our new recruits. Unless you’re on duty, you will be there.” He glanced back at Baz one more time before going back to his seat. 

Romelie took a seat next to Emily on the bench and indicated for the two of them to sit opposite. Baz ended up next to Lara with Huw on the other side. There were plates already in front of them and the others were taking the food in the middle, so Baz helped himself.

“So we’re getting right back into fighting then.” Huw wasn’t pleased with how that had gone.

_“Just sparring. It can hurt, but you aren’t in any danger. There are always life mages in the barracks in case it does go wrong though.”_

“Is there anyone here who won’t want to fight?” 

_“Maybe after a few rounds they will be less eager, once you show them what you can do.”_

“I know I won’t be fighting tomorrow.” Lara had been listening to what they were saying and added her thoughts. “Hope and I were on duty during the gladiator battles, so we’ve already seen you fight.”

“Oh really. Were you impressed?”

“Royal gladiators are the best in the country. You dominated your fight and Emilio barely even managed to get a scratch on you. And then there was what you, James, did to Marcos. He is very strong fighting with his axe, but his magic is what got him to his age, but as soon as he actually used it the battle was over, it was brutal.” Baz fidgeted a bit in his seat, worried that she had also seen the magic not affect him. “Did you know that he has had to retire because of you? They managed to heal his arm enough for him to keep it, but it won’t work properly ever again. But I guess the life of a gladiator comes with its risks. So how did you two become slaves in the first place?”

The other conversations around the table died as she asked this and Baz took a moment before replying about the sensitive topic. “I was born into it. My parents were both slaves for being noughts, so I’ve been one my whole life.”

“Ooh, that’s awful. And what about you Huw?” She looked past Baz to his friend.

Huw, however, was much more reluctant to answer, ignoring her and continuing to eat as the entire table watched him.

“Answer the question.” From the end of the table came George’s command.

Huw continued to try and remain silent, but George had been given some control over the slave mark and it began to glow as he resisted. He quickly couldn’t take it anymore. “Argh, fine. I’ll say.” He grabbed his neck as he gave in, trying to ease the pain. “I committed a crime when I was young. It was enough to take away my freedom.” He tried to go back to his food, hoping that was enough.

“What did you do?” George wasn’t satisfied.

Huw winced as the mark flared up again. “It was my sister. I was 13, she was 17 at the time. The son of the local baron was interested in her, and they were spending more time together. One day though, she never came home and I confronted him about it. At first, he tried to deny he even knew her, but I had seen them together, he was lying, and we fought. He was years older than me and I was quickly beaten, but then he started talking. Telling me no one will ever see my sister again, that he killed her and he was going to kill me. Before he could though, I used magic to blind him. He tripped over a rock, and I then used that rock to cave his head in.” Baz had heard this all before, but the rest of the table was silent. Lara was the first person to talk again.

“But a psychic could have told them it was self-defence, that he was going to kill you.”

Huw picked at his food a bit more, not looking at anyone. “He was fucking lying. My sister was fine, she had started living with him, but we were commoners so they were trying to keep it quiet. The Baron didn’t care about any of that though, and even if my sister was dead I was going to the pits. He made sure of that.” Huw rarely opened up about his past, and never to people he had just met. He took one more bite of chicken before pushing his meal away and standing up. “I’m going back to the room.” With that he left the table, quickly getting out of sight.

The other guards were still quiet, thinking about the type of person their new colleague was.

“How much of that did you know?” Edwin, the Dwarf, was the first one to break the silence.

“All of it.” Baz looked around the table, trying to gauge how they reacted to Huw’s past. “Please, don’t judge him for what he said today. It happened a long time ago, and even when we were young it isn’t the type of person he is. Despite everything he’s been through he is a good man, and is grateful for the opportunity Her Highness has given him. Even if he wasn’t compelled to do what she says, he will do anything for her.” He started to focus on his food again. “We both would.”

Baz was undisturbed for the rest of the meal as everyone went back to their own conversations. Even Lara, who seemed eager to learn more about them, refrained from asking any more questions after the revelations her last one caused.

Eventually the meal was over and they all made their way back to the corridor where they lived. As Baz was going into his room, Romelie quickly reminded him that she would be taking them to the barracks in the morning.

When he entered the room it was already dark, but thanks to his magic Baz could see clearly. Huw was lying on his bed, unmoving but with his eyes open looking at the bunk above.

“If they have any sense, this will only improve their thoughts of you.” There was no response as Baz jumped onto his bunk. “It was always going to be revealed eventually. The Princess already knows and thinks you are still capable of serving her. They’re just going to have to accept it.” There was still no response from below him as he got under his sheet, and Baz knew he wasn’t going to get one. “Goodnight mate. I hope you’re alright in the morning.” And with that, he fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added character descriptions for the guards in the appendix


	6. Familiarisation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get distracted by the most minor things. I mentioned each one of the personal guards had their coat of arms on their cape, and then all I do for the next two days is research their real-world designs, start creating a bunch of them (you can see them in the updated appendix) and creating a load of rules for the coats of arms in this world. They are unlikely to make any difference at all, but it's just a random small detail I got totally absorbed by.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Baz woke up to the light of the sun streaming in through their small window, and as he sat up he saw Huw was also awake, sitting at his desk with his shortsword, one of the few possessions he had. He wasn’t doing anything with it, just inspecting the blade. Years of use with no replacement or repair meant it was dented and chipped, but he had always made sure to keep it sharp, as a dull sword could get you killed. He looked up as Baz awoke and got down from his bunk. 

“Do you think they will give us new ones?” At last, he was speaking again. Baz only hoped he would continue when they reunite with the other guards.

“New what?”

“New weapons of course. These things are battered, they can’t expect them to last.” He picked up his dagger from the desk which was less damaged but still not in good condition.

“Probably. They said only the best armour can protect the Princess, surely weapons too.”

“Yeah, they did say that.” He got up and sheathed his weapons, placing them back on the armour stand. “When you met the Princess earlier, did you see her eyes? They were golden as if she has light magic like me, but when she was asking about my magic she wanted demonstrations as if she didn’t know them in detail.”

Baz thought about what he said as he got dressed. “She has lightning magic, and is very powerful.”

Huw was surprised by Baz’s revelation. “But their colour is light blue. Hell, it’s named electric blue after their magic.”

“I don’t know how, but she is lightning. Believe me, I’ve seen her use it, and even the bolts are golden.” He thought back to the day before when she blasted him, recalling the colour. He hadn’t noticed it then because he was in shock, but they were gold. “Back in Cardiff, wasn’t there a lightning dragon that came to watch once that was yellow?”

“I’m not sure I remember that.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m pretty sure there was. Perhaps it’s just a rare mutation.”

“A rare mutation that happened to occur in a Princess? What are the odds?”

“Remember the English royal family are known for their massive raw magic power. Maybe it’s part of that.”

“Hmm, yeah. It’s just so strange.”

From outside they heard the ringing of church bells, signalling it was 6 o’clock. As soon as they had finished there was a knock at the door, which Huw answered. Standing there was Romelie, with Emily behind her.  _ “Good morning Huw, how are you today?” _

“Better, thanks.”

_ “Good. I just wanted to say you need to bring your weapons and armour with you today. We won’t be returning to the rooms after breakfast.” _

“Ok”. Huw quickly retrieved his sword and dagger, strapping them to his waist. Baz, however, used his magic to secure his spear to his back, finding it was more secure but more versatile than using strapping.

_ “I hope you don’t mind, but Emily will be joining us today.”  _ She said this as they led Huw and Baz down the corridor.

“Fine with me.” Huw gave his blessing, while Baz just grunted his reply.

_ “It has been decided that for the beginning of your duties, you will be shadowing the two of us whilst on guard. The four of us will take charge of both the Prince and Princess, and Prince Fredericks guards will do the same on the next shift. This is because both of you are new, neither of you can guide the other.” _

Emily took over the next part of the explanation. “At first Huw will act as my partner, protecting Frederick, and you James will be with Romelie and the Princess. As you get experience, we will revert to our usual pairing but we will remain as a four, with the two of you protecting Catarina.”

_ “Only when I feel you are ready will you be on duty without us, but I’m sure that won’t take long.” _

When they arrived at the kitchens, they made their way back to the same table and sat in the same places. Around the table, everyone else was sitting in the same place, however, Edwin and Elias weren’t there. Instead, sitting to the right of where they were sat were two new men, one of whom was an elf. Romelie quickly introduced them as Bryce Drummond, a psychic human, and Rory Peel, a holy elf. Baz made note that she called it holy magic. In countries that follow the church, this is what light magic is known as. Baz and Huw were Welsh though, and they believed it was the dragons that acted as conduits between magic and the world, and that without dragons there would be no magic.

When they sat down Lara seemed eager to talk to them again. “Hey Huw, I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t think about how it was a sensitive subject for you.”

“That's fine Lara. As Baz said last night, it would have been revealed eventually, and I guess the earlier it came out the better.”

“I’m glad you're okay then.” She smiled at him. “But who’s Baz?”

“It’s me.” Wanting to correct them, Baz stood up and addressed everyone at the table. “Yesterday I was introduced to you as James, but that isn’t the name I go by. I prefer the name Baz, and I will be more likely to respond to it.” With their acknowledgement, he sat down again and began to help himself to the food on the table.

“Where did that name come from?”

“Unsurprisingly, it's from my time as a gladiator. When I was young, they said I was good but not incredible. There were several fights I took part in that I was lucky to win, as well as those that I lost where I was lucky to be alive. It seemed that I was having more battles that I got lucky in than not. There was this dwarf that arrived in the pit when I was about 17 that didn’t speak English, only the ancient dwarvish language, which was strange as none of the other dwarfs there spoke it, so we could never translate. When he saw me fight, he started to call me Baz. It was the only thing he ever really spoke to me, as he was killed a month later, so we never got a translation.”

“So… you think it means lucky?” 

“It’s the best guess we have. As I said there were other dwarves in Cardiff and a couple of them spoke modern dwarvish. They said that in the modern tongue luck is  _ besh _ , and that’s close enough for us to go with it.”

“If he wasn’t on duty you could have asked Edwin.”

“He speaks ancient dwarvish?”

“I don’t know, but he does speak the modern version. His family are the lords of Leicester, which is the main gateway between England and Bryten, so they have a lot of interaction with Brytish dwarves travelling between the kingdoms, and he might have an understanding of the language.”

“Huh, I’ll look forward to asking him.”

“Do you mind me asking how much you’ve fought as a gladiator? How many wins, losses and such”

“Sure. I’ve fought from the day I turned 16, as soon as it was legal. Most of the time we would get a week break, as the pit had so many gladiators, but when there was a larger travelling troop or a rival pit challenge we would sometimes not have a break. In my first two years, I fought 49 times as a solo combatant. I lost 12 times and won the other 37. In the last three and a half years I’ve fought solo 92 times, winning them all.”

“You kept count well, but 12 losses, you really are lucky to be alive.”

“Heh, I know where you’re coming from, but not really. They say that a hundred years ago, losing a fight was practically a death sentence. Since then though, they realised the more you keep alive, the better the quality of the fighters, so it has become encouraged to incapacitate, not kill. Also, when you’re as young as I was they tend to show more mercy. Unfortunately for us, incapacitating someone is sometimes not possible. I also mainly fought solo fights, group battles are also more dangerous since if someone is down you need to make sure they won’t get back into the fight.”

“Do you know how many you’ve killed?”

Baz looked back at his food, saying practically under his breath, “I do.”

“I’m sorry, I asked another stupid question.” She took his hand in sympathy. “But not every gladiator is like you and Huw. Most of them aren’t good people, thieving, raping, murdering in cold blood, and God knows what else. People often get forced into becoming gladiators with the expectation they will die. I’m sure that’s what that Baron was trying to do to Huw, giving someone a death sentence and also profiting from it. Some are even thrown in there with a condition they can never be freed or sold on.”

“Yeah, I know. But at the same time, how do I know that they aren’t just like me? Or like Huw, where someone unfairly sentenced them?” He took his hand from Lara.

“You know you will be forced to kill as a guard? You either kill them or incapacitate them when you are sure Catarina’s life isn’t at risk.”

“Romelie already told me that, but at least those people deserve it. If they get in a position where I need to kill them, then they were trying to kill someone else. That will make it weigh less heavily on me.”

“That’s good to hear. This is a serious job, you can’t be hesitant.”

“How often is Catarina’s life in danger?”

“Most often, about once or twice a week, it’s just a disgruntled peasant, or more likely someone from former Spain that is taking an opportunity, and they are easy to deal with, but now and then there is a true assassination attempt. These happen maybe once a month, but even if they are rare we always need to be on guard. We never know when they will happen.”

“Romelie told us Catarina will sometimes have to take part in a battle to put down a small army. What’s our role in that?”

“Since I’ve been a guard there hasn’t been a revolt large enough for her attendance, but I do know what happens then. In battle, all twelve of us will be on duty, along with the royal guard army. She likes to be involved in the battle, leading from the front and inspiring her troops, and our job is essentially to make sure she doesn’t get overwhelmed. It also includes dispelling magical attacks coming her way so she doesn’t have to focus as heavily on that, and to just, in general, keep her safe.”

“Hmm. I guess it will come with experience.” He again focused on his food for a bit before turning back to Lara. “So I’ve told you about myself, what about you? Which family are you from?”

“Haha, yeah I guess that’s true. Well, I am the second daughter of the Paget family. My father is the Viscount of the Isle of White. We originally come from Brittany, but when the English rule of the region ended, our family were exiled for being loyal to the English. As compensation, they gave us the island, and we have been their nobles for four generations now. Two years ago I helped protect Gwenyth, Catarina’s younger sister, when she got injured on a hunt. We had been separated from the group and were alone together when a pack of wolves spooked her horse and she fell. I fought off the wolves and then healed her injuries before riding with her back to safety. I was rewarded a couple of weeks later with this position, and I’ve been here since.”

“Why were you assigned to Catarina? From the sounds of it, Gwenyth needed some better guards.”

“It wasn’t their fault we got separated, so there wasn’t any serious punishment. There was a space with Catarina though, my predecessor had been here for seven years, ever since we got involved in the war, and requested a transfer home. It just happened to occur at the same time as I saved Gwen, so I replaced her.”

“So, how many guards have been killed since you’ve been here?”

“Other than your predecessors, there has only been one. John, who was partnered with Rory, was killed shortly after I arrived. We don’t know what caused it, but that day he just seemed a bit sluggish, as if he wasn’t totally awake, and then later in the day they encountered a random attack in the town square. A disgruntled farmer, who was angry about losing land to the army, attacked them with an ice bolt. He wasn’t powerful, and there wasn’t much force behind it, but John didn’t even try to block it, taking it straight to the chest. There was nothing they could do for him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I didn’t know him well, as I said I had just arrived, but he had worked with Rory for twelve years, first for the King then for Catarina, and he took it hard. I did know your predecessors though, and that wasn’t easy to deal with.”

“Do you mind telling me what happened to them? I'm sorry but we haven’t actually been told.”

“I can, but I honestly don’t know how much we can tell you. Hang on a sec.” She turned to Romelie, waiting for a gap in her conversation with Huw. “Uh, Romelie. Baz is asking about Hannah and Liz, how much can we tell him?”

She thought about it for a moment.  _ “Don’t worry, I’ll tell them about it. It’s probably important for them to know, to be ready for a repeat. So, a couple of weeks ago there was an assassination attempt on the Princess. This wasn’t like others we’ve dealt with, it was well organised and planned. What makes it even stranger was that the attackers weren’t Spanish or Portuguese and that their priority was clearly Catarina. It happened in Setúbal, just to the south of here, when we were visiting the local lord. They were in a specific part of the city relating to the Lord’s business when they attacked. They were in an empty street when ten people came at them with some more attackers on the rooftops, we don’t know how many. Six came from the front, four behind. The guards followed protocol, surrounding Catarina and Frederick, with Fredericks guards taking on the four, Hannah and Liz the six. Unfortunately, Hannah was overwhelmed first, but she did take two of them with her. Liz did her best, killing another two and she was looking like she would be able to finish the last two, but then she was hit by an arrow. It wasn’t a fatal shot, but it allowed them to kill her. Fredericks guards were going more slowly on their side, so Catarina killed the final two herself, as well as getting one of the archers with her magic. Fredericks guards managed to keep one alive, but before we managed to get any substantial information from him he killed himself. The other archers also got away.” _

“So how do you know they weren’t Spanish?”

_ “We found a sigil on one of their corpses. It belongs to a massive crime organisation, the Hidden Front, that has operations in many countries. Spain though is not one of them.” _

“Did you find anything else?”

_ “A little, but as I said they are a large organisation, and even if we knew where to find them, that sect would be unlikely to be the one that was hired.” _

“You think they were hired? Catarina or someone in England couldn’t have offended them?”

_ “I don’t know, I’m not part of the investigation and that is all I’ve been told so far.” _

“Hmm, okay then.” Baz thought about this for a bit. If they got away they could try again, and he might be on duty if they do.

They continued to eat with bits of casual conversation coming here and there, and eventually, breakfast was over.

_ “Alright, let’s get going.” _

Romelie got up and walked with Emily, with Huw and Baz following behind. They left the palace through the main entrance, going into the courtyard they then walked through the large gates and out of the complex. They walked down the main road for a couple of minutes before entering a shop on the left. When they entered they saw it was a tailor, with rolls of every colour fabric lining the walls. Romelie went further into the shop while the others waited at the entrance.

“I thought we were heading to the barracks?” Huw asked their guides.

“We will be going there next,” Emily answered them in Romelie’s absence. “First though, you two need some new clothes. You will be accompanying the Princess in many different situations, all of which make what you currently own unsuitable.”

As slaves they were rarely given new clothes, and if they got damaged in a fight they would need to repair them themselves. Both of them had many visible repairs on their simple clothes.

“Wow, thank you. What will it cost us?”

“Absolutely nothing. I doubt either of you has much money either. Did you get paid as gladiators?”

“Three bronze per victory.”

“Three bronze for putting your life on the line. Wow.”

“We never really had a chance to spend it, so it didn’t affect us that much.”

“Still. Even if you won a thousand fights you would barely be able to afford a tunic here. This is the finest tailor in the city, they provide clothes to the royal family and the wealthiest there is. I’m amazed that Catarina told us to come here, there are hundreds of tailors in the city and she sent us to the most expensive.”

Just as she finished speaking Romelie reappeared with an old man wearing a leather apron with her. He was short and chubby with his white hair long since abandoning the top of his head.

_ “Baz, Huw, this is Theodore, he is the master tailor here. Baz, step forward and he’ll take your measurements.”  _

He did as he was told and Theodore took a tape measure from his neck, beginning the measuring. Partway through he asked Baz to raise his arms, with Romelie translating the same way she did for herself. It didn’t take long though before he was done and it was Huw’s turn. When he was also measured up, Theodore spoke again.

“What magic do you both use?”

“Dark.”

“Light, why?”

Theodore didn’t answer, just asking them all to follow him further into the shop.

_ “Don’t mind him not answering, Theodore isn’t much of a talker. He asked because certain items will be colour coded with your magic, usually just formal wear.” _

They didn’t have time to say anything else as they had arrived at where Theodore had led them, a large closet. When he opened it, they saw it was filled with the maroon leather capes all of the personal guards wore. He removed two and handed them to Baz and Huw, instructing them to put them on.

Baz slipped his arms into the sleeves and moved them around, testing his movement with the cape on. Theodore asked them to put the hood up and move their arms in certain ways. Baz found his sleeves were slightly too short, but Huw was fine.  _ “Do you like a lot of armour on your arms?”  _

“No, just vambraces.” Baz left most of his protection to his magic.

“I have vambraces, rerebraces and pauldrons.” 

With his acknowledgement, he asked them to take them off, before folding them up and putting the capes on the counter.

_ “They will be delivered with the rest of your wardrobe.” _ Saying this, he left them.

“ _ Great, now we go to the barracks.” _

Leaving the shop, they started moving in the direction of the barracks, which was opposite the entrance to the palace. They entered the building, going straight through it and out into a courtyard. Scattered within were many groups of men and women, members of the royal guard, sparring and running through drills. They went across the courtyard and entered another building containing a large forge and a dozen men at work. Most of them were forging armour, but a couple had swords on their anvils. When they entered, the only woman at work greeted them.

_ “Ah, Romelie, Emily, what do you need today?” _ Again, Romelie translated for them.

_ “We have two recruits for the royal guard, and they need some gear.” _

__ The woman turned towards the rest of the shop and shouted something that wasn’t translated. Immediately three of the men stopped what they were doing and moved to the large furnace in the middle of the room. Another went into a storeroom at the back and came back with two buckets filled with dark metal ingots, presumably titan steel.

_ “Do you have their measurements?” _

_ “We were just at the tailors, here.” _ She handed over a piece of paper with some scribbles on it.

_ “Argh, damn Theodore. His writing is terrible, I can barely read this.”  _ She stopped for a minute, carefully going down the list.  _ “It’s good enough, I can just do it.”  _ She got out her pen and paper and looked up at Huw.  _ “So, what do you want.” _

Romelie had told them about this yesterday and they had both thought over what they needed. Huw listed off everything he wanted, fingerless gauntlets, vambraces, rerebraces, pauldrons, chest plate, a smaller backplate, thigh guards and greaves.

When she had written it all down she asked Baz the same thing.

“I just need a chest plate, nothing on the back, thigh plates and greaves that cover the knee. I’d like them as thin as possible, I don’t like much weight.”

_ “I love a simple customer.” _

_ “Is that it? Baz, what about everything else. Your arms, back, what if they get hit?” _

“You said that we wear this as a uniform, so I’ll have it where visible. I don’t need anything anywhere else.” 

_ “No, you have to have more. It would be suicide without it.” _

“Alright, watch this.” Baz thought back to yesterday and the vambrace Romelie showed them. He used his magic to form a copy, before putting it down on an anvil by the entrance. “Huw, can I borrow your sword.” He received it and went back to the anvil and making sure Romelie could see he swung it over his head, putting as much force behind it as possible, and struck the shadow armour. Handing the sword back to Huw, he gave Romelie his creation. “I don’t need any more because I have this. Weightless and stronger than any metal, I’m only using the other armour to hide this behind. Anywhere not on show and I don’t need any armour.”

Romelie was holding the shadow armour, looking for any dent. When she couldn’t find any she handed it to Emily to look.  _ “That’s very impressive, but are you sure it can hold up.” _

“It’s never failed me before.”

_ “You could put us out of business with that.” _ The blacksmith had also watched the demonstration.

“Don’t worry, I can’t make that much at once.”

_ “Ha, good. So what type of weapons would you like us to make? The same as you already have or something else?” _

Huw unsheathed his simple sword and dagger and placed them on the workbench. “The same as these for me, but could you do me a second dagger as well?”

_ “Of course. And you?” _

Baz took the spear off his back, placing it beside the other weapons. “If you can recreate this, I’m used to its balance. Oh, and I could also do with a knife.”

The blacksmith picked up his spear, looking it over.  _ “This is a very unusual weapon. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a solid metal spear, and this also has a very crude design.” _

“I found my preferred weapon was a spear, but also that they broke too easily when they had a wooden shaft. One day I found a metal pole and decided to try swinging it like my weapon. It wasn’t perfect, a bit heavy, but it suited my defensive needs, so I got the blacksmith to add a blade to the end.”

_ “And you said you were used to its balance?” _

“Yes.”

_ “Then I can’t remake this in titan steel, it would be a waste. Leave it to me and I can make you a brand new design. I’ll keep the length and the balance the same, but it will be a proper weapon, from the ground up.” _

Baz looked at his spear in her hands, thinking about what she said. It was indeed just a piece of scrap, and he can do a lot better, but he had used it for four years now. It was with him as he improved and started his winning run, never letting him down, but he did hear what she was saying. Any resistance he has due to sentiment is unfounded, seeing as he would be replacing it no matter what. “Fine. I trust your judgement.”

_ “Good choice.” _

__ She was about to walk away with the weapons when Romelie called out to her.  _ “Before you go, we have some sparring matches in a bit. They will need their weapons, and we will return them after.” _

_ “Okay then, we’ll get started with some armour.” She placed them all back on the workbench and looked at the measurement sheet. “A vambrace will be a good start.” _ She turned back to the men around the furnace, barking some orders to them. She picked up an ingot of metal and used some tongs to place it into the forge that had just been lit. Around the main body were four inlets where each man took a position. At their bosses' command, they all unleashed a torrent of flames into their inlet, heating the inside to a temperature that can work titan steel. After a minute in the heat, she took the red hot ingot and transferred it onto an anvil. Before she picked up her hammer, she physically grew in size.

“You don’t necessarily need a berserker to forge titan steel, but the faster it’s hammered into shape the less time the forge needs to be heated, so the mages use less energy.” Emily explained the role of the lead blacksmith in the process.

They watched this process repeat many times, with the fire mages changing shifts once in the hour they were watching for, and they were still going strong when Romelie told them it was time for the agreed-upon spar. They re-equipped their weapons and made their way back into the courtyard and Romelie led them to the right-hand side. Unexpectedly they went through another door and inside. They walked down a few different hallways before they arrived at a large room. Inside was a walkway going around a pit, with two bridges going across.

When they entered they saw some of the other guards were already waiting for them, along with a few other people scattered around the walkways. 

“This is the training ground for the royal gladiators when they aren’t travelling.”Emily began to explain where they were. “We thought it would be more suitable than the main courtyard for a spar since we don’t want any soldiers getting in the way. We can really let loose here, there’s a protective ward set up around all the walls and walkways, nothing will get damaged.” There are also life mages within the royal guard, so there will always be help if something goes wrong and someone is injured.” Baz looked down from the walkway, seeing a pit about 15 meters below them. It wasn’t as large as the arena, but it was big enough. It was circular and about 30 metres across, similar in size to some of the smaller arenas you may come across. 

Emily finished telling them about the arena as the last pair, George and Dominick, arrived.

On their captain’s arrival, everyone gathered around the platform at the entrance to the observation platform. “So, you have your first chance to prove yourselves.” George was talking directly to Baz and Huw. “Which one of you want to go first?”

“I will.” They had discussed it while in the blacksmiths and they’d decided Baz would start.

“And who wants to be the first to face the gladiator that impressed Catarina so much?”

No-one volunteered immediately, but then the elf Rory volunteered. “I’ll do it.”

“Holy verses Darkness, what a great way to start this off. Before you go, Robert here will apply a ward to your weapons.” He motioned to one of the men that were already in the arena when they arrived. “They may still break bones, but they won’t kill. Once you’re down there, I will announce the start and it ends when you deliver a would-be killing blow, or your opponent is subdued. Understood?” They all nodded. “Good.” With that, he made his way onto the walkways to get a good view of the arena.

After having their weapons prepped Rory led Baz down some stairs to the arena where they both prepared themselves for the fight.


	7. Testing

Baz was facing his opponent. He hadn’t fought an elf before but knew from their reputation that they were naturally agile and light on their feet. His opponent now was big and strong, wielding a bastard sword with both hands. As Baz took his spear off his back, there was a shout from above, “BEGIN!” Rory started to creep forward, approaching cautiously.

Baz had no such reservations though, charging forward and closing the distance quickly. He swiped at Rory, who parried and stepped back, but Baz took the opportunity to kick him, knocking him off balance. Before Baz could follow up though he used his momentum to roll, just managing to get out of reach of Baz’s jab. As Rory tried to back away further, Baz continued his assault but was interrupted by a slash of the sword coming from his bottom left. He dodged backwards before a blinding light erupted from Rory’s hand. Baz wasn’t affected by it but acted like he was to keep his secret. To stop him following up on his magic blast Baz responded with a whip of darkness, lashing Rory across the chest and knocking him to the ground. Baz had sparred with Huw before so he knew how to deal with light attacks, creating a thin strip of darkness, just enough to see through, and tied it around his eyes. If he tried to blast him again, he wouldn’t need to pretend. 

A blast of light wasn’t his first worry though, as when he returned to facing Rory, his sword was glowing with a golden light. Weapon empowerment was a rare ability, and Baz had only faced it once before, but he knew that it was incredibly dangerous, giving every strike explosive like power. Rory became the aggressor for the first time, coming forward and striking upwards again. Baz didn’t have time to dodge, so he blocked it with the shaft of his spear. The blow, combined with the empowerment, nearly knocked his spear out of his hands. Baz knew he wouldn’t be able to keep blocking, eventually he would be forced against a wall and lose. He couldn’t afford to be lunging in either, any time Rory’s sword parried him it would be struck by the same incredible force and be much more likely to disarm him. He was doing his best to keep his distance, looking for a chance to counter.

Rory continued attacking, but Baz kept dodging, making sure not to get hit, but he was struggling to keep away from the elf. Eventually though, he was unable to keep him at bay and he couldn’t dodge a quick jab. His spear was out of position as well, the only thing he could do was use his forearm to knock it aside. The sword cut through his leather vambrace but was stopped by his dark magic. To his surprise though, his arm wasn’t knocked away and he was able to knock it out the way, keeping the fight going.

Realising what happened, Baz created a dark tendril, wrapping it around the blade and grabbing on, getting a good grip on the sword and kicking Rory in the chest once again, removing the hilt from his hands. Disarmed, Rory tried another blast of light, but the dark strip he placed across his eyes meant he didn’t recoil. Baz plunged the bastard sword into the ground and advanced again, trying to end the fight. He jabbed a couple of times, but Rory dodged swiftly. He took another swipe across his head but Rory dodged under it and rolled towards his sword. He’d just got his hand to it when the shaft of the spear appeared over his shoulder, the blade angled towards his neck.

“Match!” Again, George called down from above, letting them know that the battle was over.

Baz removed the spear from his shoulder, sheathing it on his back. He walked back towards the door. “That shouldn’t have happened.” Baz turned back towards Rory.

“What?”

“Your dark magic, it shouldn’t have stopped my sword.”

“Well, it did. Maybe you’re wrong.”

“Do you think I’ve never fought someone with dark magic before? People have tried that before, people a lot more powerful than you. It wasn’t stopped then and it shouldn’t have been stopped now.”

Baz obviously knew why it was stopped. “Well, then I guess I got lucky.” Baz smiled at him and continued on his way. Rory just shook his head and, with a lot of effort, pulled the sword out of the ground, sheathing it and following Baz upstairs. 

When they got back up, everyone was gathered around George again, but Baz noticed there were more people than there were earlier, watching their fights. He didn’t recognise anyone of them, but they had a strange familiarity to them. Before they reached George, everyone scattered, but as Baz passed Huw they both stopped.

“Who are you fighting?”

“You’ll see in a second.” Baz gave him a strange look. Why wouldn’t he say? “Good win for you though, weapon empowerment is tough to beat.”

“Cheers, but I really did just get lucky today. Good luck with whoever you’re fighting now.”

“Thanks, I feel like I might need it.”

Huw left the observation level and Baz leant on one of the railings looking down on the arena, quickly being joined by someone else.

“That was a nice fight, but why do you use your magic as you do?” Lara asked him about what she had just witnessed.

“Like I do?”

“Yeah, you use it so basically.”

“It’s how I’ve always used it. It’s just… safer.”

“But it looks like you have such incredible control of it, you could do so much more.”

“What makes you… Whats Romelie doing?” Down below, Romelie had appeared in the arena, making her way to the same place Rory was. Huw, like Baz, stayed with his back to the door.

“Oh yeah, Romelie volunteered to have the next fight.” She looked at Baz. “What’s with that look? I’m the only one who said I wouldn’t fight today, she didn’t say anything of the sort.” 

“BEGIN!” George once again called the start. Huw, wielding his sword and dagger, approached while Romelie stood her ground. As Huw got closer though, her eyes began to glow purple.

“What’s happening to her?”

“Do you really not know? Did you not notice when you were fighting Rory?”

He thought for a moment. “No...”

“When elves use their magic, their eyes glow. How did you not know that?”

“There aren’t many enslaved elves, so I’ve never fought one before.” Baz could feel there was magic trying to affect him. Curious, he allowed it, and he saw the battlefield change. Surrounding Huw were ten clones of Romelie, running around each other. Huw was turning left and right, doing his best to keep track of which clone was real. Now and then though, the eyes of the many Romelies would glow, and Huw would slow down, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. 

“She’s always using magic though, to translate herself and others. I’ve never seen her eyes do that.”

“She told us the translation is automatic, that she doesn’t need to channel anything to understand others or to make herself understood.”

“What about when others speak and she translates.”

“It’s more like she creates an aura around her. Very useful to be honest.” Their conversation was interrupted by a flash of light and Lara had to cover her eyes. “I see the ward doesn’t block out light.”

“Did you see that?”

“Clearly not.” She was still rubbing her eyes, trying to clear them.

“The clones, they didn’t create a shadow.”

“How did you see that?”

“It was more prominent when he created the light, but you can still just tell by the firelight.”

She squinted, trying to see what Baz did. “I still can’t tell. Which one is the real one?”

“The one currently by the door, two figures to the left.” Just then they stopped doing their dance, and they all darted in at once towards Huw. Completely clueless, Huw received a blow to his back. Desperate, he swiped at the next clone that came near him, but his sword just passed right through it. Another figure closed on him, and he received another blow. Following that figure though he quickly lost the one that hit him. 

“Look for the shadows!” Hearing Baz, Huw let out another sphere of light, less bright but sustaining it for longer this time. Able to look straight through it himself, he looked around him and quickly found the real Romelie.

“What are you doing?” George shouted across the arena at him, angry that he was influencing the fight.

“What? We’re teammates, aren’t we, when will we ever be fighting apart.”

He had a point, but George still snarled at him. “Don’t do it again.”

“I thought winning a few fights would make him warm to us.”

“Don’t worry about George, he’s like that to every new recruit, he really cares about the Princesses safety. I don’t know precisely how long he’s been part of her guard, but his father is the Duke of York, the King’s closest advisor. She practically grew up with him looking after her.”

“Hmm.” The battle was finally becoming interesting as Huw finally had a lock on Romelie. Trying to get another trick going, her eyes started glowing and Huw began to slow again, unable to keep focused. He sheathed his knife and raised his hand towards the real Romelie and the light ball began to fade. He looked like his mind was clearing, keeping his hand up, and began approaching her. 

“Oh good, he’s finally blocking her attacks.”

As soon as he was within range of her, both of their magics stopped, unable to keep them going as they clashed blades. Huw unsheathed his dagger again and began his assault, keeping Romelie totally at bay and forcing her backwards.

Even with her agility, Romelie couldn’t get Huw away from her, and she was beginning to tire. Huw on the other hand just kept going, and eventually, he managed to strike her right hand, causing her to drop her dagger. With only one weapon left, she was unable to keep blocking both of Huw’s weapons, and the sword ended up on her neck.

“MATCH!”

Huw and Romelie didn’t move until Romelie slowly moved the blade away from her neck.

_ “Are you ok there Huw?” _

“Yeah, sorry. I just got into it.”

_“I can see that. You didn’t want to stop.”_ She went to go pick up her dropped weapon. _“But you wouldn’t have got anywhere near_ _me without Baz’s help.”_

They walked together out of the arena. “Yeah, I know, I owe him one for that. Why didn’t you finish it earlier though? You had me at your complete mercy.”

_ “It’s just my natural instinct as an elf. We enjoy the hunt, and it often delays the kill.” _

“That’s… comforting.”

_ “Don’t be so worried. We can control it when needed. I just wanted a chance to let loose for once.” _

“Yeah, well.” Huw had nothing else to say, and they returned to the observation level in silence. 

“Baz, get back down there. Your next opponent will join you in a minute.”

He did as George said and entered the arena. He looked back up at the observation level hoping to see who was coming down, but his attention was drawn by someone else who had joined the group he didn’t know. His arm was in a sling and he was in regular clothes, but he recognised him as Marcos Brand, the gladiator he fought two days ago, and he was looking directly at Baz.

They couldn't share any more heartwarming moments though as the next opponent arrived, Bryce, another Psychic. Baz smiled to himself, since if he was anything like Romelie then this would be over quickly.

“BEGIN!”

Baz stood his ground, waiting to see if they were the same. Baz quickly saw that they weren’t as four long daggers floated out of his waistband and made their way towards him. Baz used his spear to knock them out of the way as they came. There may have been four of them, but after they were knocked off course there was a moment before they came back at him, so he was able to keep them at bay. Baz felt there was something wrong though, taking a moment to look back at his opponent, who had an arm outstretched towards him. Suddenly his weapon was yanked out of his hands and flew towards Bryce, leaving him defenceless. When the next knife came for him, he tried to grab it in the same way he did Rory’s sword, shielding his hand in a glove of darkness. He did manage to get a grip on it, but Bryce still managed to yank the dagger out of Baz’s grip.

Wanting to give himself some time to think, he quickly made two shields from darkness and went back to blocking the flying knives. It was a lot tougher now though since his blocks didn’t deflect the daggers as far, leaving him with less time between each strike. He thought about what Lara had said, that he had more control over his magic than he used. 

He softened his magic shields and threw them at the next two blades to come at him. The daggers pierced through, but before they burst all the way through the darkness hardened again and gripped onto them, holding them in place. Bryce tried to pull them free, but they were stuck fast. When the other two blades came towards him, he repeated the process and with them all restrained, he planted the plates of darkness into the ground, taking the knives out of the battle. 

Baz turned towards Bryce but quickly had to duck out of the way as yet another dagger was flying towards his face. He had only just dealt with the last four and now another four were already there. Before he repeated the process he had a glance at his opponent, looking to see if he had any more tucked in his belt. From what he could tell, he didn’t, so Baz went back through the process of catching the knives and taking them out of action. Bryce was much more careful now, not wanting to have his main attack taken out of the fight. When a dagger got close to one of the floating shields he would pull them back and come from another direction. One advantage he had was that Baz only had two shields. If he came from four different directions, he could still break through his defences and try to end the fight before losing all his daggers. 

When the four daggers came at him, Baz managed to catch two of them and quickly planted them in the ground. The other two did break through, but just as he had been doing earlier he managed to evade one while the other struck him in the shoulder. Bouncing off his armour, he was unhurt, and only had two more daggers to catch. Actively chasing them now, he quickly did capture them, leaving Bryce with no physical weapons.

Done with that, he charged at Bryce but he felt a force coming towards him. Allowing himself to take the initial hit, he was forced to a stop and even pushed back a bit. He raised his arm and used his own magic to block the wall of force, demonstrating the power he had inside him. He began to force his way forward again, closing the distance as his opponent struggled to contain him. 

When he finally got to Bryce he created a staff of darkness but was countered by his own spear. Using an unfamiliar tool, much larger than what he was used to, his defences were quickly broken through and he could nothing more.

“MATCH!” George ended the third battle with another victory to the newcomers. 

Dissipating the staff and shields containing the daggers, he took his spear from Bryce and sheathed it before leaving the arena without a word. On the way back upstairs he passed Huw who was being followed by Hope.

On the observation level, Baz went back to his place next to Lara, whose partner was fighting next.

“That looked rather easy.”

“It wasn’t. They came from every angle and extremely quickly, I had to focus hard, keeping track of them when I couldn’t see them was a guessing game.”

“Well, you made it look easy.”

“Thanks.”

“So Hope wasn’t convinced the other day like you were?”

“Oh she was, but knowing her she loves a challenge.”

“BEGIN!” Hope, holding both of her axes, charged in with her cloak billowing behind her, using lightning magic to speed herself up. Striking fast she immediately forced Huw back but quickly slowed down again to a more normal speed which caused the battle to become a lot more even. Huw quickly recovered from the initial onslaught and was now capable of keeping pace. Twin axes aren’t seen too often so he spent a bit of time feeling her out, getting a sense of how to deal with her. Even since slowing down she was quite fast and her blows were heavy, but he quickly found when deflected away it left her open to a counter-attack. 

After seeing this he took the first opportunity first opportunity he was given to counter, striking at her right arm, which he had just knocked aside. As he did though, he found his sword slowing, and before he could touch her it started moving away again. This phenomenon occurred again a moment later as he got another opportunity, his dagger getting closer but still being repelled by this invisible force. After this, he kicked at her and shot a beam of light, disorientating her before unleashing an onslaught, all of which just reflected back at him. What he did find though was that his dagger was getting closer than his sword, so when he backed away he switched his hands, putting the dagger in the right and sword in his left.

“This won’t last much longer.” Lara knew her teammate’s capabilities and knew she was running out of time.

“What is it shes doing to repel his strikes? She’s not a psychic, it shouldn’t be possible.”

“She is capable of creating a magnetic field around her, so whenever a metal blade gets close it reacts and is pushed away.”

“Wow, that’s new. Why won’t it last long though?”

“Because it works better when there is more metal to work against. He’s clearly realised this, putting his dagger in his stronger hand. A few more blows and he’ll be through.” 

She wasn’t wrong, and it was only a few blows before there was an audible clang as the dagger struck her armour. Even with this setback, Hope didn’t stop attacking, hoping to catch him even once in a significant way. It was all in vain though, Huw was easily able to continue going as he had been, and the next time he had her off balance he struck towards her neck, with the only thing stopping him from slitting her throat being the ward that was placed on the dagger.

She may not have been cut, but she still felt something run across her scarred neck, so she stepped back, dropping her axes and holding her hands up by her head, indicating her submission and the end of the fight. She smiled at him and held her hand out, which he promptly shook before they both left the arena.

“Baz.” Emily had approached him when the fight ended. “Let’s go, you’re fighting me next.”

“Okay.” He followed her down to the arena in silence before setting up, once again with the door at his back. On the other side of the arena, Emily indicated she was ready despite still having both her sword sheathed and her shield on her back.

“BEGIN!” Immediately she crouched, placing her palms on the floor. Seeing the surface gain a layer of ice, Baz jumped as it reached him, not wanting to get his feet trapped. As he landed he nearly slipped up, steadying himself with his spear planted into the ice. Still hanging on to his weapon, he coated his shoes in darkness and tested them. Finding they had sufficient grip, he went to pull the spear out of the ground but found he couldn’t. Looking down at the base, ice had begun to climb up the spear, anchoring it to the ground. Before he could do anything else to it though he had to leap to the left, using his spear as a launchpad, to avoid onrushing spikes of ice growing out of the surface. Without a weapon, he again formed the staff he used against Bryce and tried to rush forward, limiting Emilie’s use of magic. Before he could though a river of frosted air was coming towards him. Forming a small shield with his left hand he blocked it as best he could, but some of the deflected frost still hit his head, passing through as if it wasn’t there. When it ended, there were large spikes of ice on the shield and Baz hoped those above didn’t get a good view of it hit him, obscured by the frost that passed over his head. This delay in his charge stopped him for only a few seconds but it was enough for the ice to crawl over his feet, pinning him in place. With her sword and shield finally in hand, Emily began approaching Baz trying to take advantage of him being stuck. Thinking quickly, he expanded the size of his shoe covers and shattered the ice that enveloped them before moving to meet her in the middle, striking her sword with his staff. She backed off slightly and created a wall of ice, three meters tall, between them. With the wall of spikes to his right and the wall in front of him, she would be expecting him to come from the left. Not wanting to do as she dictated, he backed up a bit before creating some small platforms for his feet, running up and vaulting over the wall in front of him. She noticed him as he came over the top and raised her shield to meet the heavy strike from his staff, causing a large crack to form down the middle of the wooden shield. Using the crack as a target, he struck the shield another two times before it split completely, falling off her arm. She managed to block the next couple of strikes with her sword, but she couldn’t parry the next one, instead creating a shield of ice on her arm and raising it to meet the blow. It was clearly very heavy and she struggled to carry it but it blocked him. Trying to get some distance in this confined space she dropped the shield, merging it with the ice and creating a small barrier between them. Wary of being caught by the ice again Baz kept moving, going around the shield and approaching again. While she tried to hold her own, she was quickly disarmed and had the end of the staff resting on the top of her head.

“MATCH!” With the fight ended Emily melted all the ice around them while Baz dissipated the staff and picked up his spear that had fallen into the dirt. The ice wasn’t actually made of water so when it melted it also just dissipated into the surrounding air.

The next battle would be Huw against Dominick and his cat familiar. Taking their positions, the call to begin came and immediately Dominick began to change, taking on aspects of his familiar, growing claws on the ends of his fingers and sprouting hair on the back of his hands. His hair changed to match and extended down his face, between his eyes and down to a nose that had also changed, along with growing some whiskers.

Baz, again next to Lara, asked her a question. “Is that just an ordinary house cat?”   
“No, it’s a Scottish wildcat. They’re not very common in England but he’s from Cumberland, where some do live.”

It looked like some of Dominick’s bone structure changed and he dropped onto all fours, leaping towards an advancing Huw. Huw slashed with his sword but was blocked by a spiked vambrace, designed to block blades. Their fight continued for a while, neither of them able to get an upper hand.

“He’s very good. When it comes to close-quarters combat, Huw is almost unmatched. His magic is average, but if it was a fair fight and neither of us could use magic, he would wipe the floor with me every time.”

“Yeah, we have the same attitude about Dominick. Druids don’t have any offensive magics, other than their transformations, so they often work hard on close-quarters combat. Dominick though is on another level.”

“Let’s hope one of them gets an edge soon, I can’t tell them apart.”

As they were fighting the wildcat didn’t get close, circling the outside of the arena and eyeing the two in the centre.

“It’s quite a small familiar, isn’t it? I thought their magic usually allows them to grow larger.”

“That is the typical change, but Dominick is something much more unique, and considering his skills, far more useful. He hasn’t told us exactly, but what we have worked out it’s something to do with foresight. Felai can see marginally ahead and warn Dominick what’s coming.”

“That’s insane.”

The fight continued in a dead heat, any time it looked like one of them was gaining an advantage it would immediately disappear, but throughout the entire fight, Huw didn’t use any magic. Dominick simply didn’t give him an opportunity, any time he tried to create space or an opportunity, Dominick would close it, closing the distance or having Felai jump in, making him need to defend instead of unleashing a blast of light. 

Huw continued to exchange blows, but could never make any meaningful connection. It seemed like this battle would never end until Huw finally managed to create a decent opportunity. Knocking one of his feet out from under him, Dominick was down on one knee when a strike from Huw’s sword came down from above. At the last second, he just managed to get his arm in the way, blocking the hard blow. Trying to give himself some time to recover, Dominick for the first time created some distance, with Felai coming in close to try to prevent any magic from Huw.

Huw wasn’t looking at Dominick and paid no attention to his wildcat familiar, instead just looking at the weapon in his hand. The force from that last blow had shattered the damaged sword, leaving nothing but a short jagged shard jutting out of the hilt. “I submit,” Huw announced the end of the fight before bending down to pick up what was left of the sword. It had split into four, with the other three pieces lying on the ground in front of him. Huw knew that without his primary weapon he had no chance and continuing was just delaying the inevitable.

With the pieces of his sword in his hand, and a loss looming over his head, he went back upstairs. He was greeted by Baz when he got up. “I don’t think you can really call that a loss.”

“And yet it is.”

“You were let down by your sword. If you had a weapon in a better condition who knows how that would have ended, even at the end it was impossible to predict.”

“The sword is still part of the battle, if it can’t hold up I can’t either.”

“But that was just an ordinary iron sword,” Dominick spoke from behind them, looking normal again and having listened to the conversation so far. “You’ll soon have one made of titan steel, and when you do I want another match. One that reaches a proper conclusion.” He turned and left, heading back towards George.

“See, he agrees with me.”

Huw turned towards George himself. “I can’t fight again today. Not with this.” He held up the pieces of his sword.

“It doesn’t matter, there’s only one opponent left.” He indicated it was him. “Come on now Baz, we can’t have you leave today unbeaten.” He left the observation level.

“Good luck.” Huw and Baz smirked at each other at his confidence. Even after watching him win three fights and knowing he’d bested one of the best gladiators in the country, he was still confident of winning. He followed him down to the arena, taking his spear off his back when he got there.

_ “BEGIN!” _ With George being one of the combatants, Romelie started this fight, and when she did George took up the same position Emily had, with both palms flat on the floor. Two walls sprouted up from the ground either side of them, restricting the space so that Baz they had to fight in this narrow corridor.

He discarded his spear, unable to use it in this confined space. What was it with these guys and making him not use the spear. Four fights and the only one he had any real use for it was the first, and even then he had to win with different tactics.

This time he created a shortsword and rushed forward. When he got close, he used the walls on either side to propel himself upwards and at the same time created a short rope, throwing it at George’s shield. It connected on one end, the other tying it to the ground, making him unable to raise it at the oncoming Baz. Before he could free it Baz collided with George, both feet slamming into his face, breaking his nose and knocking him off his feet. George had managed to strike his left leg with his sword, but one of his protective plates blocked it. Flat on his back, when he got his senses back there was the point of a sword in his face.

_ “MATCH!” _ Romelie ended it a mere twenty seconds after she had started. Dissipating the sword, Baz stepped over the stricken captain and held out his hand, helping him to his feet.

“If you hadn’t created these,” Baz knocked on one of the walls. “Then this would have lasted quite a bit longer.”

He put his hands on his knees and didn’t respond at first, letting the blood from his nose drip onto the earth below. “FUCK!” He let the walls around them fall back into the ground. “All that time trying to work out how to beat you, and it was all fucking pointless.”

“Does that mean I have your respect?”

“My respect, yes. But whether I think you’ll be a good guard, I’ll need some more time to think it over.”

“I’ll get there eventually.” As they both shook hands Lara appeared next to Baz, telling George to stand up straight. She put her hand to his face and a green glow came from it. George grimaced as his nose snapped back into position but the bleeding stopped and she removed her hand.

The other guards gathered around them.

_ “We’re done for the day. When you are done here drop your weapon off at the blacksmith and pick a weapon from the racks to use until it’s ready.” _ Romelie let Baz and Huw know what to do for the rest of the day. They left the arena together and did as they were told. 

*******

George and Romelie entered the library together, passing Edwin and Elias, who were on guard at the door. They approached the Princess who had her back to them and was staring out of the window onto the river, where boats of varying size and purpose were going about their way.

As they got close Catarina spoke, “So, what do you think?”

“I can’t fault how they fought. It was extraordinary to watch, not just that they so easily brushed us aside, but that they did it one after the other, with barely any time to recover.” 

“That’s why you shouldn’t doubt my judgement.” She turned away from the window and led the two of them to the sofas in the centre of the room. “What exactly were the results?”

“Huw managed to beat Romelie and Hope but conceded to Dominick when his sword shattered, they intend to have a rematch when equipped with titan steel. Baz then beat all four of his opponents, Rory, Bryce, Emily and me.”

“Did Lara not fight?”

“She opted out, having already seen them both fight the other day. She was more than happy though when I asked her to help Romelie with analysing their styles.”

“And what did you think?”

_ “Huw is exactly what you would expect from a gladiator, very skilled in combat, able to go toe to toe with Dominick, however, he is a little slow to adapt. He goes with his style, hard and fast in close combat, and when he encounters something that style can’t beat, he takes some time to work out a different strategy. His magic doesn’t seem to have much variety and his power is average but it flows well with his style, obviously with years of practice. However, where he falls short is more than made up for by Baz. He adapts to his opponents so quickly and effortlessly that he doesn’t have a single style of combat, instead changing to counter them and their style. The closest we got to seeing his style in action was in his first fight against Rory when the first engagement between the two of them was wary as if to feel each other out. He made use of the reach of his weapon choice, keeping him just out of reach, but when he was closed down he didn’t struggle, blocking and countering with his legs and not letting Rory get into his rhythm.” _

“So they will work well together?”

_ “Yes, and we have already seen them do it. In his fight with me, Huw was struggling to adapt and should have lost, but Baz interfered, shouting at him what he needed to do. From then on he did adapt, and he beat me.” _

“I had my doubts about Huw and only bought him because Baz seemed to trust him. This is truly very good to hear.” She smiled to herself. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

They both looked at each other before George spoke, “Yes your highness. Baz’s magic, it’s darkness. I know you aren’t about it, but we are in Portugal and the Church holds a lot more power than in England. Add on top of that the fact he’s Welsh and that they still follow the pagan beliefs, the Church will resist this.”

“Don’t worry about the Church. I have already made my decision and they will just have to accept it.”

“I don’t know how, but the Patriarch has already heard about this appointment. If he is not appeased he can turn the people against you, denouncing all you have done since being here.”

“I told you not to worry about it. Besides, we won’t be staying in Lisbon much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“My father thinks I’ve spent enough time here and he wants me to return to England. I received this information last week and today the ships arrived. We’re leaving next month.”


End file.
